


Between The Lines

by ChocolateOrangeCat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x07 Last Call, 15x18 Despair, 9x07 Bad Boys, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babies, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexuality, Childhood, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kid Winchesters, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Pre-Canon, Purgatory, Repression, Weddings, and many kisses, but there is sex, exploration of dean's various relationships but endgame destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateOrangeCat/pseuds/ChocolateOrangeCat
Summary: Filling in the gaps of Dean's exploration of sexuality and identity pre, during, and post canon."Dean squeezes his eyes shut, letting the tears absorb into the sheets under him, and for the millionth time prays to God to just let him be normal. He's not a religious man, he never will be, but sometimes when he's just drunk enough and has enough anger and resentment bubbling inside of him he remembers his mother's words about angels watching over him. And he just wishes that if that's true, one could just fucking fix him and take away the freak side of him. Let him be the man his father wants."
Relationships: Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Lee Webb/Dean Winchester, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Robin (Supernatural: Bad Boys)/Dean Winchester
Comments: 28
Kudos: 159





	1. Part One- Pre Canon

**Author's Note:**

> This was almost wholly inspired by excerpts from John Winchester's journal, which is honestly heart-breaking to read. I'm not sure how anyone can read John canonically describing a seven year old child has having a killer instinct and still think he is a good dad. I haven't included the excerpts that link to each section of the fic as I think it breaks immersion, but I would recommend reading it alongside.  
> Almost all of this fic is rooted in canon (aside from the early stuff) and is meant to be filling in the gaps of what we know happened with Dean's feelings on it.  
> I do not own Supernatural & please do not post my work on goodreads or similar

Dean likes staying with the Harvelles. It doesn't happen often, Dad doesn't like to hang around with other hunters much, but sometimes there's things he can't figure out. Dean's only seven so he can't imagine there being anything his Dad doesn't know, but apparently there's all kinds of things that might hurt him or Sammy, so sometimes they do need to meet other people like them. Jo is a little older than Dean- she's nine now, even though Dean only just had his birthday. Jo goes to school- she shows him her worksheets proudly and tries to teach Sammy words. Dean doesn't dare ask his dad again whether he's allowed to go to school. He says he wouldn't be safe at school, and that it's better they stick together, but he gets a slightly sad look when he explains that.   
Jo also has a mom still, who gives her cuddles and hugs and bakes cookies with her while the men talk in hushed voices, glancing worriedly at the kids. Ellen doesn't look much like Dean's mom, but sometimes he likes to pretend that she is. The three of them stand in the kitchen, Dean and Jo on rickety wooden stools since they're too short to reach the countertop otherwise, and Ellen shows the kids her super secret cookie recipe. She lets Dean stir in the chocolate chips, much to Jo's disapproval, but the woman smooths her daughter's hair kindly and reassures her she can do it next time. Jo shows him how to sneak some of the batter from behind Ellen's back but he gives his to Sammy, who is running a car along the kitchen tiles and giggling to himself. Sammy's going to be three soon, but he's still too little to play with the older kids. It doesn't matter to Dean, though. They can play other games instead, with his cars and army men. It's better than when Sammy was just a baby, and all he would do is cry.  
When the cookies are in the oven, Jo drags him up to her bedroom and shows him her pretty dress-up box. She has tiaras and magic wands and princess outfits. She laughs and makes him put on her Cinderella dress. It's blue and shiny and swishes as they run around. He knows dresses aren't for boys, but blue is, so he doesn't think his Dad would be too mad. Is this what Moms are meant to do? Would he and Sammy have a dress up box of their own, if they still had a mom?   
Ellen only catches the two of them once Jo has played makeup artist and neatly daubed her makeup onto him. He's sat very still for her while she put lipgloss and mascara on, and he looks very pretty in her opinion. With the dainty butterfly clips pinned into his shaggy hair, he could pass as a girl too. Ellen chuckles a little at the two of them, but she doesn't like it. She scrubs his face with a washcloth, carefully balancing gentleness with vigour.   
"Some things are just for girls, Dean." She says, holding his chin in her hand.  
"Makeup is for girls?" He questions, blinking up at her.   
"Dresses, too." She responds, smoothing his hair back down.   
"And hunting is for boys?" Ellen nods.  
"Now come on, before Sam eats all the cookies." She holds his hand and takes him back to the kitchen, shutting the bedroom door firmly.   
"You keep these housewife skills up and you'll bag yourself a nice man someday, Joanna!" Ellen jokes to her daughter who rolls her eyes and continues to lick melted chocolate off her fingers.   
"Me too?" Dean pipes up, racing one of Sammy's cars along the table absentmindedly. Ellen doesn't laugh at all now, and she kneels in front of him.   
"What did I just say, Dean? Some things are just for girls." He looks at her slightly confusedly. He gets that. Dresses and makeup are for girls, but why can't he be like Jo?   
"Boys don't marry other boys, alright?" She clarifies, a harsh undertone in her voice now that's not at all motherly. Dean nods.   
"Lookit!" Sammy interrupts with a wail, poking his brother and waving a car and it's wheel that's broken off. Dean pushes the wheel back on for him and hands it back.  
"Good as new see, Sammy." He says softly. Ellen regards the exchange.  
"That's what you do, Dean. Fix things." She encourages, "Girls can't do that."   
Before they leave, Ellen pulls his Dad aside and mutters something to him. John glances over at Dean and nods. The next day he takes him to a barber shop and instructs the man to give him a proper marine's cut. Dean wants to cry when the man starts buzzing at his neck, but he doesn't, Dad doesn't like it when he does that. He can still remember the way his mom loved his hair, and would comb it carefully after bath time, him and Sammy cuddled in towels together.   
"Come on, Dean. Wouldn't you rather impress the girls than look like one?" John says impatiently. Dean swallows thickly.   
"Course. I wanna look like you." The man nods, pleased with his response.   
Dean never lets it grow out again. 

They don't see the Harvelles for some time after that. He's not exactly sure what happened, he thinks maybe it's his fault. If he hadn't let Jo put that makeup on him, maybe they'd still want him and Sammy around. Dad just mutters something about Jo's dad getting hurt real bad and to quit bugging him about it.   
Nobody else seems to take much interest in the Winchester children, aside from the occasional motel manager side-eying their dad and checking the bills John pays upfront twice. Dean feels invisible, sometimes. He wishes the soft leather of the Impala's backseat would just swallow him right up, away from everything. It feels almost like it might happen, when Dad's driving late at night. He stars out at the street lamps flashing past, trying to blink in time with them, Sam huffing soft little snores beside him. 

"Dean! Get your brother and get out." John barks, not bothering to even face the boys as he checks his gun and slides out the vehicle himself. He dutifully does so, pulling a sleepy Sam out of the car and into what seems to be a junkyard. His toes pinch uncomfortably in his shoes as his feet hit the ground. They've been small for a little while now, but he doesn't want to bother his dad with wants for stuff like shoes. Girls are the ones that are obsessed with shoes- shoes, purses and dresses. Dean is not a girl. He ignores the feeling and stares around the yard.   
Dad's new friend is called Bobby. Bobby smells like whiskey and his house isn't at all kid friendly, not like the Harvelles. There's just a lot of books, and things Dean desperately wants to touch and play with but he knows better than to try. The man gives the two children a funny look as they trail morosely behind John.   
"John. 'ya mind if I have a word?" The man hisses, and the two adults disappear behind a door that's slammed shut, but Dean can still clearly hear the whole exchange.   
"The fuck you doing bringing kids here?" Bobby snarls.  
"I can't afford to leave them in a fucking motel this time."   
There's a pause.  
"You've been ditching them, this entire time? I didn't even know you had kids. You've come here on hunts that have lasted damn weeks! Jesus, even the bigger one looks like he's got one foot in the grave. I've hunted ghosts that look better than that."   
Dean frowns. He's had both feet in a grave before. Dad's started making him help dig lately, instead of staying in the car with Sam. Dad says he's strong.  
"...they're not your kids, Singer. Just shut the fuck up and help me find this bastard, already."   
There's silence for a moment before the door swings open and the men step back out into the main room.   
"You can sit down you know." Bobby says, looking down at Dean. He nods and perches cautiously on the couch, pulling Sam onto his lap before he can cause any trouble. Sammy's still pretty small- definitely smaller than the other kids his age. The boy doesn't weigh much either, even his bones feel light, like there's nothing to them. Bobby gives a long hard look to John, who glares back and makes for the door.   
"Dean, Sam, you're staying here for a few days," he says already pulling the Impala's keys out his pocket, "Keep quiet and do what you're told." 

They end up coming back to Bobby's quite a lot, and Dean finds himself growing fond of the older man. He looks equal parts disturbed and impressed when Dean proudly shows him how quickly he can field strip a Browning. Dad instructed Bobby to show him how to shoot properly and despite having a loud argument about it (for friends, they sure seem to argue a lot, but then again Dean doesn't have any friends aside from Sammy, so he's not sure if that's just what all friends do) the man takes the two boys out into the woods with a shotgun. Dean's eyes stay glued to the gun. It's pretty big, and he doesn't think he'll be able to use it properly. He gnaws his lip nervously, hoping Bobby won't get as mad as Dad does if he screws up. But the man never hands it off to Dean. Instead, they track a deer through the woods and Bobby himself takes it out in one clean shot.   
"There ya go," he grumbles, "Guns ain't just for killing folk. They can also get ya something to eat." He eyes the brothers with a soft look. Was it obvious how hungry they were?   
Bobby makes them deer chili that evening, and lets the two children cuddle up together on the couch with their bowls, watching crackly reruns of Scooby-Doo that cuts out every so often thanks to the rain outside. It's the first time Dean has felt truly full and comfortable in a long time. Every so often the older man will huff and mutter out a 'damn it!' as he flicks through a stack of old, dusty books. 

Dad returns late that night, sporting a foul mood and some kind of wound on his leg. He ignores Dean's questions on it and drags the kids into the Impala and back on the road. They stop at a dingy gas station after an hour or so and despite feeling the need to stretch his legs but Dad didn't give him permission to get out, so Dean waits patiently in the car with Sam. He watches the man walk inside the gas station, pick a few things up and pay, before stepping out again. He notices now that there's another man loitering outside, looking scantily clad and thin. He stops John with a few words as he's heading back to the car. Dean can't make out what it is they're saying, but his dad looks positively thunderous. A furious John Winchester is a terrifying sight, that's one thing Dean definitely knows, and the guy backs off in a hurry.   
"Jesus christ, fucking disgusting," the man spits as he slams the impala door shut and revs the engine, "Fucking faggots. "   
"What's that mean?" Sam pipes up brightly, clearly not reading the room. He's so curious these days, always pestering his family with questions or even just pointing to things and cocking his head to the side as Dean tries to explain how planes work or why the sky is blue.   
"Filthy perverted freaks, that's what. There's something wrong with men like that. They're going to hell, the lot of them."   
Dean doesn't really understand what his dad actually is talking about, but he nods and stays quiet so as not to rile the man up further. 

For Dean's fourteenth birthday he gets his first kiss. Katie Jones is a small, pretty girl with long dark hair, cute dimples and in interest in the new kid. They go to the movies to see some flick about dinosaurs. He doesn't really pay much attention to it though, his focus is solely on the warm grasp of Katie's hand. It's so much smaller and softer than his and he never wants to let go. When she turns and kisses him toward the end, he practically melts into her arms, forgetting all of the cool moves he'd secretly practiced in the mirror. She tastes like popcorn and sugar, and he can't get enough. 

Dean kisses a few girls after that. His dad is proud, he thinks. Sixteen, and already a proper skirt chasing, gun wielding, foul mouthed man. He likes to brag to Sam about all of the girls that fall into his lap- Katie, Rebecca, Anna, Julia. The younger Winchester is barely out of the cooties stage and pretends to make gagging sounds. John tells him to quit fighting with Sam, but has no objection to his eldest's conquests. Dean relishes in the approval for once.

By his seventeenth birthday, he kisses a boy. He has no idea how it really came to be, how he ended up under the bleachers on that summer afternoon. Something to do with being the new kid, and the way that before long he'll be gone and no one will remember any of this gives him the confidence, perhaps. The boy's name is Alex, and he is nothing like Katie, or any of the rest. He has big, gentle hands that cup Dean's face and he smells warm and sweet. When he leans in and bravely presses a kiss onto Dean's lips, it's almost like something explodes inside his chest. He kisses back, hard, before jerking away and wiping his mouth. Alex says nothing, just looks at him with big sad eyes.  
"Don't fucking touch me again." Dean gasps and scrambles away.   
"Dude, wait-"   
"Leave me alone!" He exclaims, "Fag." He throws the word over his shoulder and instantly feels guilty. He doesn't need to look back to know how distraught Alex is.   
He goes straight back to the motel and storms through to the bathroom, ignoring Sam's bitchface and whiney greeting and grabs the bottle of listerene that's sitting on the side. He uses almost half the bottle, swilling and spitting religiously until he's forgotten the taste of the other boy's lips.   
Fortunately they move on pretty quickly after that fuckup. 

In October, he gets arrested. It's stupid, he can't believe he even got caught. He was just so damn hungry, and judging by Sam's constant bitching, his brother was even hungrier. John doesn't care why, he's more than happy to let Dean rot in a cell. He ends up at Sonny's home for boys. Sonny is a tough old son of a bitch but he's fair, and doesn't push Dean on his background. Its the first time in a long time, that somebody gave a crap about him and what he wants. He etches a pentagram into the bedframe he's given in the old house and at night, when he's alone with his thoughts, he misses Sammy so hard he can hardly breathe. Tears prick his eyes as he squeezes them tightly shut, wondering what the kid was doing right now, whether he was okay without him. In the light of day though, he can't let himself miss his family, because he's somehow starting to have a family here. Sonny pushes him to join the wrestling team, and he surprises himself with the victories that brings. It also brings confusion.   
He's pinning his competitor down one time, just playing around in the yard, when he suddenly feels a rush of heat to his cheeks and his dick. He leaps away, muttering an excuse and running to the bathroom before anyone can notice his shame. He flicks the cold tap on and splashes icy water on his face. What the fuck is wrong with him? Looking down at the boy's face and his lopsided, challenging grin had just made him want to lean down an inch further and kiss him. The other kid is obliviously off finishing some chores by the time he tentatively unlocks the door, but Sonny is waiting for him.   
"Hey Dee-Dawg," he says softly, "Can I talk to you for a sec?" Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, letting the man pull him aside into the seclusion his office.  
"Am I in trouble?" He says brusquely.   
"Sit down, kid." Sonny ignores the question.   
"Listen, Dean. I saw what happened back there- hang on, let me finish! I saw that, and I've seen other things, too. The way you look at other boys sometimes? Yeah. Look, it's not a big deal to me. I've seen some shit, alright, some real fucked up stuff. And the way I see it, if two fellas want to go together- fine. It ain't hurting no one. But there's people out there who do think it's wrong, and you need to make sure you don't go pissing off the wrong guys, alright? So you keep your head down, kid and don't let anyone catch ya."   
Dean's speechless, head reeling.  
"Now get outta here, you've got chores to be doing, huh?" Sonny claps him on the back and ushers him out without another word.

The next day, he meets Robin. She has long dark hair that hangs in her big trusting eyes. They sit together on the couch, strumming a guitar lazily and talking about everything and anything. Robin describes to him how she wants to run away and be a photographer- visit colourful lands, eat weird food and be free like a bird. After a couple of afternoons like that, all holding hands and rubbing shoulders, she leans in and kisses him gently. He's taken aback at first, and she laughs at him, asking whether he's kissed many girls before. He catches a glimpse of Sonny outdoors, who's clearly keeping an eye on the pair of them through the window and just grins and kisses Robin back. The older man gives Dean an unreadable look later on, but Dean's seeing this as a victory. See- there's nothing wrong with him. Girls like him, and he likes girls.   
He fucks her, the night before prom. It's quick and messy as first times always are, and definitely deserves the word 'fuck' to describe it. There was no real love or pleasure in the act, just a handsy teenage burst of passion. She seems pretty pleased though, and he revels in feeling like a real man.   
Dean's tying his crisp navy blue tie into a knot and smoothing down his hair when Sonny pads into the room.   
"Your old man's outside, Dean." He says lowly. The air feels like it's sucked from his lungs.   
He leaves. There was no question about it, not really. Dean was never going to be able to stay here forever, as much as he'd fantasised about it (and about certain people). Still, it stings to slide back into the Impala and right into the life he'd managed to briefly drop. 

After that Dean stops bothering to try and be anything other than his dad wants. He buries deep down any of the feelings that came with living at Sonny's. There's no point bothering with school, with anything really except hunting and girls. His job is to protect Sammy, plain and simple. He forges bullets, scours newspapers for cases, fiddles with the Impala's engine and follows the eldest Winchester's orders like they're from the man upstairs.   
He seems to do something right, because on his eighteenth birthday, John hands him the keys to the Impala and grunts something about rites of passage and being a man now. He gleefully runs his hands over his Baby's shiny exterior, smooth warm leather of the wheel and takes her for a spin just by himself. He feels free, just the way Robin described, despite somehow still being more caged than ever.

Lee Webb is like no one Dean has ever met before. With shaggy hair, a flirtatious smile and hardened hunter's hands, he feels strangely relaxed around him. John definitely doesn't like him, calls him trouble, and that probably contributes to Dean's fascination. It's a hot day in California when Lee calls Dean to inform him he's stumbled on a werewolf case. John's suspicious as he always is, and is very reluctant to let Dean drive off alone to meet him but by some miracle he does. Speeding down the freeway blasting Metallica from his Baby's speakers with no one to bitch about it is already a great start to the case, and he's in a great mood when he pulls up. As is Lee, apparently. There's a sweaty shine to his forehead and a twinkle in his eye and he greets Dean with a slap on the ass and a grin.   
"Dean Winchester! It's been a minute, ain't it?" He says far too cheerfully for someone who's been investigating incredibly gruesome murders.   
"Too long." Dean agrees, slipping out of his over shirt and tossing it on the backseat of his car. The heat is incredibly close and dry. Lee gives an appreciative glance to his exposed arms, and he can't tell whether it's the sun or just pride that spreads warmth through his chest.   
"I'm surprised your daddy let you take the old girl by yourself."   
Dean pulls the Impala's keys out his pocket and jingles them with a wink.  
"She's all mine now."   
"Oh really? Better get that backseat broken in, in that case then."   
"Quit it." He says, laughing as they climb inside.  
They drive to the lake where the murders took place, taking turns singing along to the radio. All the police investigation stuff has gone now, and it's just a plain but pretty area.   
"The victims were all teenagers from the local high school," Lee explains, "Apparently this is where they come to make out. And get murdered."   
"Oh really?" Dean muses, examining the area.  
"Mmhm."   
"Well, any leads that might have been here are definitely gone now." He says staring into the trees. It's a nice little spot. Secluded. He's interrupted by a splash- Lee's stripped to his briefs and is running into the water.   
"The fuck you doing?" Dean exclaims, grinning.   
"You really telling me you're not dying for a nice cold swim, Winchester?" He shouts back, splashing water at Dean. The droplets that hit him are quite coolling, so he rolls his eyes and pulls off his own clothes.  
"Now we're talking!" Lee whoops, and Dean jumps in with a splash.   
They play around for a bit, dunking each other and flicking water before Dean ends up hanging onto Lee's arm. Lee places his free arm around Dean's neck and loops him in. He should push him away, slap him, diffuse the tension but he doesn't.   
"See," Lee breathes, "I have some pretty good ideas sometimes."   
"Oh yeah?" They're so close now.  
"What do you think about this one?" He continues, and takes Dean's lips in a passionate kiss. The water splashes around them as they hang onto each other, deepening the kiss. Eventually Dean breaks it for a moment.  
"Good. Definitely good." He whispers before going back in for more. When it feels too cold to stay in the water for much longer, they run back to the Impala, laughing and grabbing their clothes but not putting them on. They go straight to the backseat and pick up where they left off, all damp and sticky. Dean's skin sort of sticks grossly to the leather interior but as soon as Lee takes him into his mouth, he doesn't care one bit. He can't believe this is really happening.   
They don't talk about it after- they don't need to. The spell that seems to hold them under a heavy cloud of lust stays firmly put and making out seems as normal as anything else. Dean knows it won't last, but he doesn't care.   
The case, however is weird. By the time another body's dropped they're starting to think it might not be a werewolf. All the usual signs are there, but the moon phase is off and there's more than hearts missing from the bodies. Lee eventually encourages him to call John for a second opinion. Despite John's hatred of Lee, Lee doesn't particularly mind John- almost respects him in fact.   
"Sounds like a rugaru. Bobby and Rufus worked a nasty case like that a couple months back. They're dangerous fuckers, so I don't want you two going after it alone. I'm coming down, just wait for me." John snaps over the crackly line.  
"Dad, wait-" Dean protests but the line's already dead.   
"It's a rugaru." He informs Lee, frowning, "And my dad thinks we can't handle it. He's coming down."   
"Just means we need to be quick on it. Let's get making some molotov cocktails then."   
By a stroke of luck, they do manage to find and kill it in time. John wasn't exaggerating, it was a really nasty thing, so they're feeling pretty victorious as they make their way back to the motel room. Lee produces a bottle of whiskey out of nowhere and they take turns between sipping from it and kissing. Dean's feeling flushed and giddy with lust, working his way up to slipping his hands up Lee's markedly flat chest, when the door bangs open.   
"Dean? What the fuck do you think you're doing?" John bellows, voice echoing. Panic floods through his chest and they jolt apart to opposite sides of the bed, whiskey bottle falling to the floor and smashing, the amber liquid pooling in a puddle eerily reminiscent of blood.  
"Dad- Sir-" He starts but John cuts him off.  
"Get out of my sight!" He yells at Lee, who has the sensibility to scarper. He turns his sight back on his son.  
"What the fuck is wrong with you? I didn't raise you to be a fucking fag! I gave everything for you and your brother, and this is how you repay me? By fucking some disgusting queer?"   
"It wasn't like that, I didn't-" But Dean can't get a word in edgeways. John grabs him by his shirt and punches his son across the jaw.  
"God, what do you think Sam would think? I know he'd be disgusted with you. Hell- what would your mother think? You think she'd want her son to be some kind of freak?"   
Dean falls silent, and John strikes him again, before turning around and grabbing the broken bottle off the floor. Dean braces himself to be glassed, but thankfully John just hurls it across the room. Shards of glass rain down like snowflakes.  
"I don't want to see you again until you get your head on straight, you hear me?" He grits out.  
"Yes sir." Dean gasps.   
The door slams shut.

Dean doesn't contact John for some time after that. Lee is in the wind, probably scared his own cover has been blown, and Sam is still in that teenage bitch phase where he's trying to rebel against everything and anything. He wonders if Sam does know why his brother's disappeared, if he is disgusted. However he doesn't actually believe John would have told Sam what happened, despite his threats. He'd much rather shove it all under the rug than risk Sam running his mouth and other hunters finding out the great John Winchester raised a queer. Not that Dean would ever, ever in a million years identify with that word. He's not a queer, he's not wrong or strange- he's just Dean. But that isn't good enough.   
John is the one to make contact again after a few weeks, gruffly telling him Bobby needs someone to check out some omens down in Texas, and after that everything seems to be forgotten. Definitely not forgiven though. 

Dean's twentieth birthday hits hard. He spends the day alone, with only a half hearted, awkward call from Sam who's still just confused as to why he's on the outs with Dad more than usual. Dean blows him off as he always does lately, just muttering some shit about Bobby needing him to hunt a poltergeist until Sam gives up, wishes him a curt 'happy birthday' and hangs up. He heads out to a dive bar as soon as it's somewhat acceptable to. It seems like he has a bit of birthday luck though, as he manages to pull a smoking chick called Rhonda. Her bright blonde curls and perky attitude stand out in the shitty bar, and she's all too happy for him to take her home. They go back to his motel room and slam up against the door, kissing furiously. Dean trails kisses down her neck and chest, before pulling her dress and bra off to reveal her beautiful, soft breasts. Rhonda slips off her tiny pink panties and hands them to him.   
"Put them on." She whispers in his ear, and Jesus. When there's a gorgeous, naked woman telling you to do something, you just do it. He feels dumb as fuck at first, and nearly loses his hard on until Rhonda rakes her eyes over him in delighted pleasure.   
"Wow," She says, hooking a finger into the waistband and dragging him back in, "That's even hotter than I thought."   
Dean likes it. He likes the way he looks with the silky, undeniably feminine fabric on his skin, he likes the way she takes over, and makes him feel dominated. It's only afterwards, when he's waking up alone and with a raging hangover and a million missed calls from John that the familiar feeling of sickness and guilt creeps it's way in. Sure, he was with a girl, but what kind of man lets the woman dress him up and fuck him like that? 

He ends up going back to John and Sam. Realistically, he could only go so long without the two of them. Family is everything at the end of the day, and Dean's never been good at dealing with shit without them. Dad thinks he's getting closer to the thing that killed mom, but he's always said that. It's always just the next demon they find, or the next hunter he talks to, and then years pass and all they have is their grief and the semblance of hope. Sam is briefly grateful for Dean's return, although he thinks the bitching about Y2K and Dean stealing his stuff is probably his way of returning to their usual dynamic.   
John and Dean go out on new years' Eve. Not exactly together, but they hit the same places considering how small the town they're stuck in is. After a few drinks, he's starting to wish he was still alone again because John won't turn his head away long enough for Dean to find someone to fuck. There's a cute girl and her friend, possibly sister, who he could go for, but what he really wants is the tall guy sitting at the bar, with a messy bed head, tight ass jeans and long slender fingers stretched around a glass, that Dean can just imagine elsewhere. The guy shoots an interested look Dean's way but he grits his teeth, looks away and orders drink after drink. He's so drunk that he barely gets back to the motel intact. Thankfully Sam is asleep, or at least pretending to be to avoid confrontation meaning he can go straight through to the bathroom to vomit until his throat is raw and then flop down on the hard, unpleasant bed and just sob. It's not a real cry, just the frustration and hatred sort of leaking out of him. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and lets the tears absorb into the sheets under him, and for the millionth time prays to God to just let him be normal. He's not a religious man, he never will be, but sometimes when he's just drunk enough and has enough anger and resentment bubbling inside of him he remembers his mother's words about angels watching over him. And he just wishes that if that's true, one could just fucking fix him and take away the freak side of him. Let him be the man his father wants.   
He's practically immobile the next day, whether it's the hangover or just his fucking feelings he doesn't know.  
Angels be damned, he will be the man that John wants and the protector that Sam needs. 

It all goes fine and well until Sam decides he doesn't need protecting anymore. It's a regular old Thursday when the youngest Winchester nonchalantly announces he's gotten in to Stanford. At first Dean is pleased- his little Sammy, going to Stanford! He always knew the kid had brains. But then John starts spewing vitriol and yelling at Sam that he's betraying the family, and it hits him that Sam is going away. From him. He doesn't need Dean, or want him. And so he shuts up and lets the argument take its course and lets his little brother walk out the door, to go become a lawyer- the kind of guy that would want to lock Dean up and throw away the key. Figures.   
And Dean just doesn't know what to do with himself. How could Sam just walk away like that? How did he have the strength to? He goes to a bar first, and has a couple drinks, but the whiskey does nothing to warm the cold dull ache in his chest. He just wants love- to be loved and to give love. Dean is just always so angry, but he isn't an angry person- not like John. He takes his phone out of his pocket and dials the number he's had to keep his fingers from punching in for months.   
By some kind of miracle, Lee is only an hour or so away in Arizona. Dean doesn't care that he's over the limit, just flies down the highway as fast as he can until he reaches the dingy motel. He doesn't let himself think until Lee's opening the door and taking him into his arms.  
And he cries. For the first time since Dean was four, he lets himself truly just cry, lets his body wrack with sobs and his breath hiccup. Lee just holds him and strokes his hair gently, not saying anything but just being a solid rock to cling to. And then when his eyes are finally dry and red rimmed, no tears left to fall, Dean lets Lee fuck him hard, providing comfort in the best way Dean understands.   
"You could get out too, you know." Lee says in a quiet voice, when they're laying stickily under the sheets together catching their breath.   
"Would you?" Dean responds, stroking circles on soft skin. He feels Lee's chest vibrate under him as he chuckles.  
"Maybe. One day."   
He lays there and allows himself to fantasize about being free. Not having the constant crushing pressure to save everyone, or to spend every moment watching out for Sammy, but having a wife. A couple rugrats. It's an impossible daydream.  
Dean is back on the road and at his own motel again by midnight, with a promise to himself cemented deep into his mind: he will be the man his father wants, and he will never let himself want another man again. 


	2. Part Two- Canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filling in the gaps throughout canon.

Psychics have always skeezed Dean out a little. There's something truly violating about the way they can just tell what you're thinking about, even when you're not actively freakin' aware yourself. Missouri is somewhat of an exception to the rule. With her biting sarcasm and no nonsense attitude, Dean finds himself slightly comforted by the older woman. He can tell why his Dad went to her in the first place.   
She doesn't know much about the thing that killed Mom apparently, but she does happen to know more about the two boys than is comfortable. It's Sam she gets to first- as soon as they sit down to talk, she pats his arm gently and acknowledges his losses. Sam looks mildly disturbed, as anyone would, but warms up to her quickly and before long he's broadly grinning at her sharp comments.   
She gets to Dean later on. The woman pulls him aside when Sam isn't looking and places a hand on his shoulder.   
"Honey," She starts and Dean tenses, unsure of which traumatic thing she's going to bring up, "There's something going on in that head of yours, something you're pushing down that even I can't figure out. And that's saying something. The folks that come through here have got all kinds of nasty secrets in the shadows of their minds, but I can pull them out pretty quickly. But you? Whatever it is that's eating you up, it's buried real deep." She pauses.  
"I ain't even going to try and guess what your troubles are. But what I will say is that you got a real good'un of a brother back there, and whatever you're struggling with? Whatever dark thoughts? He'd be there to help you, no matter what. That's not something a lot of people are blessed with."   
"I'm not struggling with anything," Dean scowls, "I just want to find my Dad."   
Missouri shrugs wordlessly and drops her hand. 

-

Dean hates being called pretty. It's always the go-to insult of every demon and fucker that goes bump in the night. He gets it, he knows how he looks (like his mom, his brain constantly, unhelpfully reminds him) full lips, big eyes, dark lashes. If he wasn't himself, hell- he'd call his face a veritable disney princess. It grates at him nonetheless. It's this constant reminder of softness- that at his core he is nothing but fluff and marshmallow, just a guy who's desperate for love and belonging. Dean isn't meant to be like that, and he can't be like that. Because if you're soft, you get killed. And dead dudes can't do jack shit, especially not protect their brothers. And then, even deeper down, 'pretty' reminds him of the way certain men see him. Full lips are dick sucking lips, and pretty eyes are girly and made to fill with glossy tears when the body they belong to gets taken roughly.  
'Bitch' works it's way into his vocabulary early on. John had never particularly cared much for the boys' language habits, in fact if anything he'd been grateful Dean's rough and ready enough to swear like a sailor. There's something slightly satisfying about twisting the word around and shoving it back down the throats of the things that yank on this complex of his. He knows he gets viewed as a bitch more often than is comfortable, and if he can throw that back, even slightly, it takes some of the sting away.   
Hunters can't be pretty.

Dean gets taken by a djinn, and once he's coherent again and lying in a hospital bed, he thinks he probably holds the record for fastest realisation. Sam doesn't know this, and would never have considered the idea that Dean knew he was dreaming from the get go, despite that being the way it really went down. From the second Dean had woken up in a cosy apartment, cradled by the warmth of another markedly male body, his instincts had set off a red alert in his brain. There was no fucking way he would ever in a million years be able to have that life. His mother being alive was merely the icing on the shit cake that informed him that this was a djinn's concoction.   
Cameron is the name swirled in neat handwriting on half of the letters on their dining table. The other half are addressed to Dean Winchester, which is just another clue that something is up, considering he hadn't used his real name for anything since he was a kid. And even then he'd enrolled at schools under aliases. The man, Cameron, follows him into the living room and drapes himself over Dean's side as they sit on the couch. He presses a kiss to Dean's jaw and rubs soft little circles on his arm.  
"You couldn't sleep, huh?" He says in a low, gravelly voice. Dean tries to keep his eyes fixed on the television in front of them, but they eventually wander to Cameron. His dark hair is sticking up in an adorable bed head look, and there's a hint of stubble across his jaw. He's without a doubt gorgeous. Dean relaxes into the soft touches carelessly. If this is a dream, it doesn't matter. None of this is real, and if it's not real there's no consequences. He leans over and properly kisses back. Cameron's leg slides over his own, sort of half straddling his lap. Dean's hands slip down to the man's ass- which is just as stunning as the rest of him- but Cameron moans slightly into his mouth and pulls away.   
"Don't do this to me, dude. You know I have to get ready for work soon."   
"Right," Dean nods, "You have to work... where exactly?"   
Cameron rolls his eyes.  
"At the hospital, idiot." He places a few more gentle kisses along Dean's neck before getting up and walking off to the bedroom. Dean follows him, and he's pretty sure his cheeks become a lovely shade of scarlet when the other man pulls out a set of scrubs. He laughs.  
"Your Doctor Sexy kink will never get old, I swear." 

Cameron joins him at dinner later that evening. The two of them look eerily normal in their button ups and ties as they sit across from his Mom, Sam and Jessica. This Sam doesn't give Dean any weird looks, or make any comments about his date at all. None of them do- his family treat Cameron exactly as they would if he were a cute little brunette as opposed to the handsome, muscular dude he is. They hold hands under the table and nobody spares them a glance at any of their open affection. It's truly bizarre, and Dean hates how much he likes it. Sam and Jess are engaged. The sparkly rock on her finger is an even more pointed reminder of the fakeness of this reality. His Sammy, the real one, could never have this.  
"We did good, huh?" Sam says softly as his brother wraps him in a congratulatory hug.   
"Yeah, Sam. We sure did." He manages to force out. All of this is just so wrong. Mary's calm existence, Cameron's loving kisses, Sam's success. He has to hand it to the djinn- this entire dreamworld is expertly constructed on his deepest fantasies. He doesn't want to go back. The desire to stay in this world is so strong it almost overwhelms him when he finally stabs his way out of it. 

"What did you dream about?" The real Sam asks him later on. Dean flushes slightly.   
"Oh you know. The apple pie life, or whatever."   
Sam nods, oblivious to his brother's discomfort.  
"Like a wife and kids and stuff?"  
"Sort of."  
"What was her name?" He blunders on.  
Dean pauses.  
"Carmen." The lie leaves a sour taste in his mouth, and he finishes packing up his stuff without any of the care or diligence he started with.  
"Come on, get in the car. I don't want to be in this damn town any longer." 

-

Castiel is one of the strangest beings Dean has ever had the pleasure of meeting- and he's met a lot. He is a juxtaposition within himself. His vessel, Jimmy, is an objectively beautiful man with stubble and sex ruffled hair yet dons a formal outfit akin to a tax account. Cas is a terrifying and soldier-like servant of God, yet there is this undeniable rebellious, caring streak in him. Cas has no concept of boundaries or regular human behaviour, but can reel off descriptions of the intricacies of quantum physics like it's the alphabet. The way he stares into Dean's eyes like they contain some kind of secret is frightening in a way. This ancient, celestial being with infinite power, who's seen the dawn of creation, standing in front of him and gazing into Dean's soul (the very soul he gripped so tightly and raised from perdition) and choosing love over violence is mind shattering. He wonders sometimes what Cas sees in him that others do not. If he was a chick, he'd be weak at the knees.  
Angels sure are dicks, but Castiel is fascinating.

-

Lisa is kind enough to take him in. He turns up on her doorstep with tearstained cheeks and shivering under his Dad's jacket, looking quite literally like he had survived the apocalypse but she just hugs him. Her smell is so soft and specific- musky and lust inducing, yet also comforting.   
This is what is right. This is what he should be doing- what he wants to do. Lisa and her home are a beacon of salvation in the storm of grief that follows Sam's death. She showers him in gentle kisses and kindness and lets him explain shit at his own pace. Dean thinks about Sam almost every waking moment and then dreams about him when he's asleep. He wakes up sobbing and gasping for breath, his brother's name tearing out his throat and Lisa strokes his hair softly, making little shushing sounds until he falls asleep. Night times are weird for them. They fall into this rhythm of pretending they are a regular boring old couple who get into bed together, talk about their day and read their books (Dean picked up Harry Potter after walking past it on display in the bookstore in town. Sam used to love it.) before having missionary sex that is fairly boring and vanilla, but it doesn't matter because they know each other's bodies and desires so well. And then after they've fallen asleep with limbs tangled together, Dean will wake up choking with streaming eyes and invisible hellhounds shredding his chest, any sense of normality out the window.   
He thinks of Cas sometimes, too. Possibly more than he's likely to admit. He wonders what he's doing off in heaven, and whether he misses Dean as sorely as he does. 

Ben gives Dean a wide berth for some time after he arrives. The two of them had always been peas in a pod before- there was a reason Dean had questioned the boy's paternity. This topic had been thoroughly put to rest however thanks to the whole Michael business- there's no doubt the son of a bitch would have taken Ben's body as a vessel if it was of Dean's bloodline, child or not. Angels were just that shitty apparently. It's probably a combination of the muffled screams from down the hall at night, and the sudden permanency of Dean's presence that keeps him away, but eventually they find their rhythm too. Dean teaches him how to work on cars in the way that he wished John had taught himself. He has dreams like this very occasionally. Happy dreams where he's as normal as Ben, and learning to drive and get his permit. Sammy's in the backseat bitching off like always, but John praises him as they pull onto their home driveway. If he can give a taste of that sweet normality to Ben, he'll try. Dean's not trying to be the kid's dad, he isn't, he's not equipped for that and he just never will be, but it's the right thing to do to provide some kind of fatherly figure if he's going to be in his mom's life. It's strange, letting himself do this. This whole apple pie life he's building is just strange. It seems so soft and effeminate. Cooking dinner for their little family, folding laundry, having movie nights where they snuggle up under Lisa's handmade quilts and laugh at silly disney flicks. Dean fell into a weird role when Sam was small- he wasn't just a brother, but a parent, a mother, a housewife in many ways yet he never reaped the rewards of that. He knows he has this nurturing, feminine side of himself that he doesn't like to examine too hard, that before was out of necessity; if Sam didn't get fed or his clothes washed he would be in trouble, but now he can relish in the peaceful simplicity of caring for his loved ones. It's nice, even if he does find himself feeling guilty for it on many an occasion. How is it possible that he can be assuming this life that John would have wanted for him, yet still be fucking it up and having these weird feelings? There must just be something inherently wrong with him. 

Leaving Lisa and Ben is one of the hardest things he's ever done. Two fingers pressed gently to their foreheads and any trace of Dean is erased. They will never remember him or his love for them, yet for him it sits heavily on his chest, so crushing he can hardly breathe. He blinks away the tears that are threatening to fall. Dean cannot let himself feel this loss, or he will crumble into the broken shell of a man that he feels like. He walks out of the hospital, slips inside Baby and turns the engine on. Sam starts off with some bitchy remark but Dean grits his teeth.   
"If you mention Lisa and Ben to me ever again, I will break your fucking nose." He spits, unable to even look at Sam. 

-

Sam thinks he knows a lot more than he does. He always fucking does. It's that half of a Stanford education popping up and giving him all these smug ideas. The kid will not fucking shut up with the constant dick jokes. It's like he thinks he knows something about Dean that he himself doesn't, and it pisses him off. He wishes he'd just back the fuck off and stop laughing at him. Sam is a good kid, underneath it all he has a heart of gold, but he can sometimes be truly insufferable. It comes to some sort of a point, when they drive up to Portland, Oregon for a case. It looks like a disgusting but fairly simple cursed item that killed the girl in question- a ballerina. The cursed shoes apparently have seduced multiple girls into putting them on and dancing until their feet fly off in a spatter of blood.  
"Do they... look like they're your size?" Sam pipes up once the shoes are safely off of the feet of a little girl, and tossed onto Baby's backseat. Dean blinks.  
"No. Shut up."  
"Are you sure about that? They look pretty-"  
"Jesus, Sam! Shut your fucking face for a minute, will you?" Dean snaps, irritated. They absolutely are his size, and he's acutely aware of the lure of them. He desperately wants to pick them up and caress the satin ribbons in his hands. The most infuriating part of it all is that they both know the objects only attract themselves to someone who desires them. This isn't the first time Dean's been tempted by ballet shit. Sure, he watched Black Swan for the hot tutu on tutu action, but it was the beautiful costumes and daintiness of it all that was most memorable thing for him. He'd spent the entire movie imagining what it would feel like to feel the slip of silk across his skin, beyond just that thing with Rhonda. Dean had hated how much he'd been attracted to ballet then, and he really fucking hates it now. Sam's face is a mix of horror and amusement, like he doesn't know whether to laugh at his brother or be concerned that he'd dare to find enjoyment in something so soft and unequivocally feminine.  
"You really did see Black Swan, huh." Sam settles on, looking mostly just disturbed now. And Dean just wants to set fire to those god damn shoes now, not put them on. But there's this lingering feeling that clings to his chest. Why is it so wrong for Dean to be soft? Why does he have to shove down any kind of thought or desire that isn't what's expected of him? They lock the shoes back up in their box, and he pretends the feelings go with them. 

-

Purgatory is like nothing anybody could ever imagine. The constant combat and violence, the never ending days, the fear and adrenaline that never leave his system. It brings out every desire and amplifies them until they are overwhelming. All Dean wants is to kill and fuck and find his angel. He accomplishes all of these.   
He has no idea what he would have done if he hadn't run into Benny. The vampire is grizzled, sharp-tongued and understands Dean's needs like the back of his hand. Benny is a means to an end. They spend hours on their feet, trekking miles through endless forests, slitting throats and throwing punches, before fucking roughly in the dark, coated in blood and dirt and it's brutal, awful really, but it's exactly what they need. Dean doesn't care how rough Benny is with him, or about what they're doing. He's not exactly happy, more just relieved by the sex they have. He'll let the vamp do whatever fucked up shit he wants to him and it feels good to let go and just feel something. Benny makes a point of calling him 'brother' which should feel gross, but surprisingly it doesn't conjure anything to do with Sam (thank God) but instead solidifies that whatever the hell this bond is, it's just about helping each other out. Besides, a red handed vampire in purgatory calling Dean 'sweetheart' or something would just be fucked up, on so many levels. Dean's instincts have never been purer or easier to deal with than here. He just so deeply and desperately wants Cas. There isn't anything he wouldn't do, no monster he wouldn't kill, to lay hands on his angel again. Benny had a girl, he learns after a while. Andrea. He understands Dean's own love, and driving passion to find Cas, and is more than happy to form this strange, mutually beneficial pact of satisfaction. They both get what they want, in roundabout ways.   
Sam doesn't understand Dean's friendship with the vamp, but then again Dean couldn't and won't label it himself. Friends with benefits, or something, except it's so much deeper and more intense than a label like that in many ways. It's just another page in the book of things that Dean doesn't want to think about too hard. He never tells Sam exactly what the nature of his and Benny's relationship was, but it doesn't matter. He has to kill him in the end anyway. 

-

For the first time in a little while, Dean's able to actually just able to hang out in the bunker with his family like normal people do. No monsters, no lore books, just his brother and almost sister and Game Of Thrones. Sam is sulking slightly in the corner, in true little brother fashion and Charlie and Dean are pressed up together on his bed. His very own bed, complete with memory foam and the softest sheets he's ever slept on. No sagging or suspicious stains (aside from his own). It doesn't even bother him having to make it. It's almost a treat, a reminder of the stability and safety that the bunker provides.   
"Sam?" Charlie singsongs, "Would you possibly grace your queen with more popcorn?" Sam rolls his eyes but grins and takes the empty bowl. She fidgets with the dvd box now she has free hands, tracing the embossed letters absentmindedly.  
"How did you know?" Dean says suddenly.  
Charlie turns to face him with a confused look on her face.   
"What? That I wanted more popcorn? The popcorn quota comes from the soul, Dean." She responds cheerily.  
"No, I mean how did you know you liked chicks?"   
"I don't know," Charlie shrugs, "I just always did. There was no big gay freakout, it was just obvious to me. I have red hair, I have green eyes, my favourite book is The Hobbit, and I like kissing girls. That's it, you know? Of course there was a brief phase at the start where I convinced myself I was bi, and that I could just ignore any feelings for girls. Compulsory heteronormativity is bitch! But then I tried kissing a dude and instantly knew girls are just way better."   
"Bi?" Dean frowns.  
"Bisexual. As in guys and girls." Charlie clarifies, regarding him closely.  
"That's a thing?" He says, feeling slightly nervous for some reason. "You can be both straight and gay at the same time?"  
"Sort of. Bisexuality isn't being straight or gay, it's just liking both. You don't have to pick teams. You can play for one, or both, or none at all. You can be super into girls and only occasionally into a guy, or fifty fifty. It doesn't matter, you'd be bi either way. Love is love, dude." Charlie beams, and before he can open his mouth Sam returns with his hands full of snacks. He takes a handful of popcorn and shoves it in his mouth to avoid continuing the conversation, but Sam being ever the interrupting moose steamrolls on.  
"What'd I miss?" He says, slouching back into his chair.  
"Just a brief sexuality lesson for this one." Charlie pokes Dean playfully. Sam chokes.  
"Tryna help this one find herself a babe, you mean." He ruffles her hair and smiles, trying to appear casual. She gives him yet another weird look, but he turns back to the screen and pretends to ignore it.

Bisexuality. There's a word for it. Dean had somehow never considered the idea that you didn't have to- as Charlie put it- pick a team. He can hardly get his head around the idea that you could be into both sexes. He'd always just thought people were just into one or the other. Dean's not stupid, he knows normal guys haven't had flings with their guy friends. Sam would never get feelings for a freaking bear of a vampire. The thing is, despite Sam thinking his brother is completely out of touch with his emotions, it's the opposite. Dean has kissed men. He's had Lee fuck him in the ass, for Christ sake, even if it was only a one time deal. He appreciates porn without chicks in just as much as he does Busty Asian Beauties. Dean just chooses not to think about it. Because what's the point? There's no way in hell he would ever pursue a relationship with a guy, when he could have one with a woman. Girls are the right thing to do. Marrying a woman is what John would want from him, it's what real men are meant to do. And the other thing is that Dean had always vehemently denied being gay, because he really honestly isn't. He loves girls. He loves their soft skin, and dainty hands and fuck- boobs. Boobs are fucking awesome. How could he be gay when he can go down on a girl with the hunger of a man starved for days? But potentially if he was bi-  
No. He's not seriously considering this. But his brain can't stop itself, and thoughts blare in his head like a siren.  
Katie. Robin. Lee. Anna. Lisa. Benny. Cas-   
No, definitely not Cas. Cas is just a friend. Either way, there's a pattern there. What did Charlie say? You can dig chicks 90% of the time but also fuck a dude once in a while, and that's still bisexuality? Interesting.

It feels like a get out of jail free card. Straight enough to pass as normal, gay enough to have John Winchester beat the shit out of him.   
Later, when he's alone (and he'd triple checked that Sam and Charlie are asleep) he locks himself in the bathroom and stares at his reflection.   
"I am-" He whispers, clutching the sides of the sink with white knuckles. He clears his throat and tries again.  
"I'm Dean, and I'm bisexual." His voice breaks slightly, and there's a slightly sour taste in his mouth. Dean's not the young twenty year old he was when his father would beat the daylights out of him anymore. He's met angels and can guess at how God feels, and he's pretty certain homosexuality is a total non issue. In his line of work, he's dealt with a lot of people, a lot of couples. And he has nothing but admiration for the gay ones. He loves Charlie and wouldn't change a thing about her. He doesn't have a problem with homosexuality- it's just not meant to be him. 

He imagines a ridiculous scenario where he's not talking to himself, but to Sam. On the road in his baby, and just casually mentioning this new fact to his brother. He cringes at the thought.

The words feel heavy on his tongue, and he comes crashing to the sudden conclusion that he doesn't like them. Sure, the label makes things make a bit more sense, but it's so cold. So official. It's not something he would ever announce, because that's just not how he is. Maybe one day he could consider not actively lying to Sam about his feelings, but he has zero desire to brand himself with a hard label and make a whole deal out of it. People are just hot, and that's it. Dean's grown pretty fond of chick flick moments over the years, but this entire thing is a step beyond his comfort zone. Hell, it's a whole leap. He'd brag for days about Lisa and how bendy she is, but even acknowledging whatever the thing he had with Lee or Benny was feels wrong. Dirty. Impure. He splashes his face with some cold water and steps outside to Charlie, whose cheeks are furiously matching her sleep missed hair.   
There's an awkward pause.  
"I just um, got up to pee." She says, gesturing nervously to the bathroom door behind him.  
"Oh." Dean nods and steps aside, making his way back to his bedroom. Charlie pauses however.  
"Dean?"   
"Yeah?"   
She steps forward and just engulfs him in a tight hug. Her strength is admirable for such a tiny woman. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need to. Sometimes things are better left unsaid.

-

Dean finds himself in confessional. On a case, of course. Dean's views on religion have changed drastically in the past decade or so. Where once he would sob himself to sleep, praying to invisible angels to guide him away from a life of sin, he now has one for a best friend. Sometimes he wonders if Cas heard him, way back when he would beg for forgiveness for his feelings. He's never said anything that particularly indicates that this might be the case, but Cas just seems to know him so deeply in a way that nobody else, not even Sam, does. He lies at first, just trying to play his role as bait so that they can get this job done, but something inside of him is desperate to be honest. To open up his heart to God in a way that he hadn't in such a long, long time.  
"There's things, " He confesses, "There's people, feelings, that I want to experience differently. Maybe even for the first time."  
It feels like such a bold declaration. It's different to what Charlie overheard him saying. That was just admittance, of this struggle within him. But this is acceptance. Instead of wishing away this curse, this abomination, he wants to explore it. He's sick of smothering his feelings, because it's suffocating him until he will be as much of a dead man as the one who's ingrained this into him in the first place. He knows the priest is talking, but he's not listening. His mind is just stuck on Cas, replaying over and over the way he's drowned under the lust and desire for him. Dean wants to swim.

-

Jesse and Cesar are the nail in the coffin. The two of them are so happy and just- normal. They're nothing like the picture most people, Dean included, paint of gay couples. In fact, he assumes their natural comfort and affection for each other is brotherly, which is embarrassing in so many ways. Mostly it reminds him of just how bizarre his co-dependency with Sam is, which is uncomfortable, but there's something else that's eating at him that he can't quite identify. Jealousy, maybe. He's just so damn knocked off his feet by the couple. They are happily, openly gay, yet are exactly like the rough and ready hunters Dean's used to rubbing shoulders with. It's a combination he'd never in a million years imagined could coexist, let alone work so well, and he can't stop thinking about what John would have thought of the men. Would he have respected them?  
He finds himself desperate to apologise, and he does so as soon as he's away from Sam and alone with Cesar.  
"I'm so sorry about what I said back there. I don't- I'm totally cool with you guys and- you know." He says in a scrambled rush, feeling the tips of his ears burn red.  
"Don't worry about it." The other man says kindly. They drive in silence for a moment before Dean continues.  
"I bet it's hard though, isn't it? Being together, in our kind of community? Do you get a lot of people giving you trouble?"  
Cesar shrugs.  
"You'd be surprised. A lot of people are more tolerant now than you might think. Jesse still gets uncomfortable telling people about us, but there's been very few times when anyone's actually said or done anything."  
"I get it." Dean says. He doesn't know why he feels so comfortable around this guy, but something just puts him at ease.  
"You do, huh?"  
"Yeah, I guess."  
Cesar smiles.  
"I thought that might be the case. You remind me of Jesse a bit. And when I told you he's my husband- the look on your face was really something."  
Dean flushes.  
"I'm not that obvious, am I?"  
"I don't think your brother's entirely in the loop, if that's what you're asking."  
"Sam thinks he knows more than he does." Dean says quietly, squeezing the steering wheel tightly.  
"There's someone for you, isn't there?" Cesar says slowly, giving Dean a knowing look.  
"I don't know. Maybe. I don't think he sees us as anything more than just friends. I'm not sure he's even capable of loving, let alone someone like me."  
Cesar gives him a weird look.  
"He's an angel." Dean explains simply.  
"Ah," He nods calmly, "That complicates things. Doesn't make it impossible though."  
"I don't know, man. What you guys have? I've always just felt like I'm not meant to get that. I don't think that- I don't think he is something I can have."  
"If you're anything as similar to my husband as I think, then you're wrong. You've spent your whole life fighting for a world that you won't let yourself enjoy. You put your life at stake to save family after family, but you won't let yourself be vulnerable enough to build your own." 

-

Billie's fist pounds on the door, shaking and rattling it off it's hinges. Dean's heart pounds in unison with it, and he thinks he's going to be sick. This is it. She's going to get in here, and she's going to kill him and then- then she's going to kill Cas. But then Cas just starts talking, just so calmly, and Dean feels like his chest is just going to explode.  
Cas made a deal. Dean gets it, he's made deals to save the ones he loves, but this is just too fucking much. He can't breathe.  
"I always wondered, since I took that burden- that curse- what it would be, what my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer, because the one thing I want is something I know that I can't have. But I think I know now, that happiness isn't in the having. It's in just being, it's in just saying it."  
"What are you talking about, man?" Dean whispers.  
"I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive and you're angry and you're broken. You're... You're 'Daddy's Blunt Instrument.' And you think hate and anger, that's what drives you. That's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done: the good and the bad? You have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know."  
This isn't happening. This can't be happening.  
"You know, ever since we met and ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has changed me," Cas continues, eyes glossy with tears, "Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you, I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean."  
"Why does this sound like goodbye?"  
"Because it is. I love you."  
Dean's heart stops.  
"Fuck, I- I love you too." He chokes out, tears dripping wetly down his cheeks.  
Cas smiles. It's soft, and broad and so openly happy that it hurts- and then it's here. The Empty. Rippling, dark black goo oozes filthily out of the wall and grabs Billie, who's finally made her way past Cas' sigil. Cas grabs Dean and pulls him close, and Dean clutches onto him tightly. He can't go. He can't die, not like this. But Cas uses his angelic strength in a way he hasn't in years and forces his lover aside.  
"Goodbye, Dean." He says finally, and the Empty lashes out and takes the angel's life in one flash of darkness, leaving nothing but a broken soul and a scarlet handprint echoing what once was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying that crushed heart? Don't worry I'm gonna hot glue it back together in part three, which is post canon and very heartwarming. Don't get me wrong it's still fairly angsty so far (I said hot glue didn't I? Ya gotta work for your fluff ok) I'm already part way through it so this fic should be complete within a week or so. All I'm saying is : ambulances, piglets and parks. Cryptic! ;)


	3. Part Three- Post Canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far, I hope I've been able to give Dean and his sexuality some justice! This part massively got legs as I just felt like I was writing a fix it ending and and not exactly a continuation of this, so there's somewhat of a tonal shift and it's less about sexuality and more about him getting a happy ending?

Cas is gone. Chuck is gone. Jack, essentially a freakin' toddler, is the big G-O-D. Everything is over, but it doesn't feel neatly wrapped up in a bow. It feels like an open wound. Dean had told Sam before that when everything was done, when they finally had their free will and no dude in the sky with his hand shoved up their puppet asses, they'd kick back and stick their toes in the sand. That doesn't happen. He probably only said it because he knew damn well it would never come into fruition. Their lives just don't work like that, and even if they did it's hard to quit. Mom hadn't even quit hunting after Dean was born, even when everyone thought she'd finally settled down for good. It's addictive, and it's exactly what Dean needs right now. Cas sacrificed himself for Dean, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make that count.  
"Mimes." Dean says simply to his brother, shoving his laptop down on the table in front of him. Sam squints at it.  
"Blood drained, tongues ripped out... It's a vampire, Dean."   
"Vamp-mimes." He counters, crossing his arms and grinning. Sam gives his patented bitchface and pretends to ignore him.  
"So, send it to Jody and Donna. They're always down to get their vamp on."   
"We need this." Dean closes the lid of the laptop and perches on the table with a frown.  
"What we need is to take a breather, man. Trust me, I'm not saying I suddenly want to go off and have some apple-pie life now, but we literally just got done dealing with Chuck. We need to just get back on our feet again and figure out what's next for us."   
"Alright, I'll rephrase: I need this. So if you want to lay back and sip margaritas, fine. But I'm gonna go kill some bloodsuckers." He slides off the table and makes his way to the garage.   
"Dean, wait." Sam shouts, exasperated. He follows Dean into Baby, though.  
"You're not going alone." He says, gritting his teeth. 

It all happens so fast.   
They find the kids, two boys, and hurry them to safety before turning back and pulling out their machetes and getting to work on the vampires. There's four of them total, in matching douchebag masks. Sam gets the first kill, slicing a head off with precision and experience. Dean gets the next two, slashes at their necks one after another until they roll on the ground gruesomely, dripping trails of filthy blood. He's tackled by the final vampire, who launches himself at him with full, supernatural force and the two of them hurtle backwards against the barn wall, and Dean's reaching for his knife when with a final slam something pierces sharply through his back. He grits his teeth and shoves his hands in the vamp's face, buying time until Sam is able to deliver the final blow. He doesn't know what the fuck is in his back or how big it is, but it feels like it's all that's holding him together. Dean inches away from the wall but gasps in pain as the fucking thing catches on his bones. He groans in pain.  
"Sam." He chokes, clinging onto the wall for dear life, "Sam, you need to-"  
His brother is immediately at his side.  
"What? What is it?" He says quickly, scanning up and down for injuries. His eyes catch Dean's lips and the blood dripping slowly from them.  
"Dean," He whispers, "They didn't-"  
"No, no. It's- there's something in my back." Sam frowns and sticks his hand behind him to feel around for whatever it is. Dean feels the wound sting as Sam brushes against it, before pulling his fingers away. They're coated in red, sticky blood. He visibly pales.   
"Dean!" He clutches his brother by the shoulder, "Stay with me, you- you need to stay with me."   
Dean swallows, metallic liquid thick in his throat.  
"Sammy. I- I'm fading pretty fast, you- you need to-"   
"I'm calling for help," Sam gasps, scrambling for his phone. Sticky, slippery fingers leave red smears all over the screen as he tries desperately to unlock it.   
"No, no. You... you need to just let me go, okay?"   
"Jesus fucking Christ, Dean! If you think I'm going to let you fucking die here on a god damn rusty nail, you're wrong. You stay with me, we're getting you help, okay? Just gotta stay with me."   
Sam finally gets through to 911 and starts practically yelling down the line.  
"I need help, my brother- he's hurt, he's got some rebar or something stuck in his back and he's bleeding real fast. Please, I need an ambulance! We're at-"   
Dean's hearing goes fuzzy and he loses track of what Sam's saying. He's died a lot of times now, and it always surprises him just how gentle death is. He just feels so sleepy, and his head is heavy. He just wants to let his eyes slip shut and soothe all of his pain away. The edges of his vision start to darken and fade, until he can only really make out a few feet in front of him.   
"-you're gonna be okay-"   
He can hear Sam's desperation and warm grip on his shoulders, but he can't get his eyes to focus on his face. Dean's just about to finally let his eyes close when a flash of tan appears behind Sammy's shoulder.   
"Cas?" He tries to call out for him, but it's no more than a gurgling splutter. The figure- Cas, heads toward him, trenchcoat billowing slightly and tie lopsided. His eyes are desperate and shining a bright blue he never thought he'd see again. Is this it? Has his angel come to take him away to Heaven? Dean lets his head loll onto Sam's shoulder and closes his eyes. He just wants Cas to take him. Maybe they can be together then. 

A bright light shining in Dean's eyes pulls him back to the surface. He blinks quickly.  
"Heaven?" He croaks out. The light clicks off suddenly, and he gets a good look at his surroundings. It's a small hospital room, with a dark haired nurse sitting beside him jotting notes onto a clipboard, flashlight in hand.   
"Not quite!" She says cheerfully, "Beacon County Memorial hospital, I'm afraid. I'm Nurse McCall, but you can call me Melissa. My husband does call me angel sometimes, though." She winks.   
"Right." Dean sighs and stares up at the ceiling. His stomach feels like lead, and he can't decide whether he's glad he made it or not. Cas wasn't there. Of course he fucking wasn't, he's rotting in the Empty.   
"How are you feeling, Mr Singer?" Melissa continues, pausing her scribbles. Singer? Right, his FBI badge was probably in his jacket. He tries to shift around a bit.  
"Fine, I guess. I don't know. Where's my br- partner?"   
"Mr Kripke is waiting down the hall for you, don't worry. That's good to hear, the doctor will be in with you in just a minute."   
"No, no. I'm fine," Dean protests, "I just want to leave, okay?" He tries again to move, but his legs are like dead weight. Must be the anaesthesia or something they gave him. Melissa looks alarmed.  
"Sir, you need to stay where you are." She says firmly. Dean waves her off but lets out a small frustrated noise.  
"Why can't I move?" He exclaims, glaring at his legs.   
"Like I said, the doctor will explain everything for you in just a moment." Melissa reassures him, before poking her head out of the door and signalling something. Seconds later, a man in a white coat comes strolling in. He pulls up a chair and sits beside the bed, a grave look on his face.   
"Mr Singer, you sustained some serious injuries in the attack you experienced yesterday evening." He begins. Yesterday? He's been out for a whole day?  
"The most major of which was trauma to your lower spine. The piece of rebar that you fell on almost entirely severed your spinal cord. We will of course get you into a comprehensive physical therapy program, but it's looking like you will have very limited sensation and movement in your lower body."   
The doctor keeps talking, trying to soften the blow, but he can't bear to listen. He can't walk, he can't defend himself- fuck. He can't even drive. Dean promptly faints. 

It takes another couple of days in the hospital before they're finally able to leave. Sam pushes him out in a wheelchair, and Dean just wants to die. He wishes he fucking had already, because this? This is worse than death. He doesn't know how Bobby managed to deal with it with any level of grace. Sam has to help Dean into the passenger seat, and fuck if a tear doesn't roll down his cheek knowing he's never going to be able to put his foot to the pedals he's been driving with since he was a kid. Sam probably notices, but pretends not to. Dean can tell he doesn't know what to say. He's just so seething with fury right now, that anything Sam could say will be misconstrued and thrown back at him, and he feels bad, since he wouldn't know what to say either if their roles were reversed. Which they so easily could have been. That's always the risk, with hunting. He's always known that, ever since he was a child he's had the worry that he or Dad, or Sam might not come home from a hunt. But his mind had always skipped straight to death, never considering the possibility of an injury like this. One that you can't heal with a couple fingers of whiskey and dental floss.  
"You remember a while ago," Sam says eventually, "When we were taking down the Brits, and you fucked your leg up from using the grenade launcher? I said I'd take a jacked-up Dean Winchester over ten other hunters, any day," Sam glances over, "I still mean it. I don't care if you can walk or not. You're my brother... And for a moment there I thought I was gonna lose you. Properly and for real, this time. No divine interventions, just a plain old vampire case. And that terrified me, man. That's not how you go, not any more. Maybe a decade ago, but now? We've got a life. We've got a family, a home, a dog. You deserve to get that. And I know you're feeling pissed right now, fuck- I would be too. But did you think any different of Bobby, when the angels put him in a wheelchair? He was still Bobby, and he was still a damn fine hunter. And so are you. He still saved our asses dozens of times. We saved those kids, and if you want, we can continue saving more. You've said it yourself that Eileen's one of the best damn hunters we know, and she's never let her disability get in the way of hunting."  
Dean sighs and stares out of the window. He takes a deep breath and tries not to sound too pissed.  
"I'm not hunting anymore, Sam." He meets his brother's eyes. "You can dress it up any way you want, but you and I both know that the fact is I'm benched. Permanently. And part of me is fucking pissed, because that's all I'm good at. Saving people, hunting things... I love it. And if I had it my way, I'd never stop. I'd be shooting viagra and propping my shotgun up on my zimmer frame, if I could. I'd never take the chance to actually live. But with this-" He gestures to his useless lower half, "I've got no choice. And I don't know if that's such a bad thing. I'm tired, Sam. Really fucking tired. I'm sick of fighting, I'm sick of losing people. Laying in that fucking bed in there, I've been thinking. If we have this chance at a real life without Chuck's manipulation- I don't know. I guess I'm saying I'm ready to take it, now." 

He sticks to that sentiment, but once they arrive back at the bunker it's hard to put into practice. For starters: the place isn't remotely wheelchair accessible. The corridors are fine, but there's so many tiny old staircases throughout the place, that it's damn near impossible to get around. Dean tends to stay in his room anyway. It's always terrifying when he wakes up in the morning and momentarily forgets what happened to him, but he grits his teeth and manages to pull his shit together somehow. They have plenty of other hunters, some alternate universe refugees, some old friends, passing through the place these days, and he hates the looks of pity that they give him. The 'thank God that's not me' look. Even Sam and Eileen constantly exchange worried looks with each other every time he's with them. He's almost embarrassed in a way. It was an accident, he knows that, but it feels like he fucked up, like he was incompetent at his job.   
More than anything though, Dean misses Cas. He misses him with every fibre of his being. Hallucinating him in that barn was terrifying, and drove the pain even deeper into Dean's heart. Cas loved him. Dean had spent so long entrenched in the idea that Cas could never love him back, that knowing the truth, that his feelings were reciprocated? It's hard to even digest. He spends hours, drunk and sobbing until his eyes are red raw, imagining what could have been. Would he have gotten to wake up and see those beautiful blue eyes in the morning, and his messy bed hair? Would they have made breakfast in the kitchen together, bumping hips and covered in hickeys that Sam pretends to get grossed out about? Would they cuddle up in the Dean-cave and watch his favourite old movies, sneaking kisses like teenagers? What would he look like, when he's fucked Dean's brains out and they're lying in that sticky warmth together, all blushing cheeks and panting breath? He'll never know, because Dean killed him. Maybe his hand wasn't delivering the final blow, but loving Dean is what fulfilled Cas' deal. Why does it always end like this? It was Dean's blade that finished off Benny, and his hands on the pool stick he shoved through Lee, and now he's killed Cas, too.  
He's not meant to drink with the strong ass meds he's been discharged with, but it doesn't make much difference he guesses. He's thoroughly numb in all ways, and his liver's been fucked since he was about fourteen. Apparently he's wrong, and it does make things worse, because Sam finds him crying and incoherent on the floor one night.   
"Dean?" He sticks his head around the door, "Dude, where are you?"   
Dean moans from the floor and waves a hand up from behind the bed. Floor is cold. Cold is good. Sam darts around and drags him up and back onto his bed.   
"What's wrong with you?" He says softly, running a hand over Dean's flushed cheek and smoothing down his hair.   
"He loved me," Dean slurs, salty tears dripping into his mouth, "He loved me, n' I killed him." He lets his body flop onto Sam slightly, who's muscles are tense.   
"Who, Dean?"   
Dean laughs wetly.   
"Fuck, pick a name. Cas. Lee. Any of 'em..."   
Sam frowns and passes him the glass of water from his nightstand. It's a couple days old and tastes like ass, but he drinks it anyway.   
"Who's Lee?" He queries.   
"Lee, " Dean repeats, "Lee Webb."   
"That hunter Dad used to hate? Back in what, oh-five?" Sam realises after a minute, "What do you mean he loved you? What happened?"   
He lets out a long sigh and a choking sob.   
"We had a thing, sort of. For a while. That's why Dad hated him. He was," He hiccups, "He didn't hide who he was. And then I went back, and I found him while you and Eileen were all... whatever. And he'd broke bad and I had to kill him. That's always how it ends isn't it? And then I killed Cas."  
Sam is at a loss for words.   
"Dean, you said the Empty came for Cas?"  
"It did. But only 'cos he had a deal. He said it would come when he was happy. Truly happy or whatever. And that happened when he- when he said-" He can't get the words out. He can't say it. Sam just gives him one of his concerned looks and gently manoeuvres him into lying down, before pulling a blanket over him.   
"You need to sleep." 

Dean's sobered up by the morning, more or less. He hardly wants to face his brother in the cold light of day, because while he can't remember what exactly he revealed, he knows he said more shit than he should have. He wheels into the kitchen, which is thankfully empty aside from Sam, who passes him a cup of coffee.   
"How you feeling?" He says, shoving a slice of veggie-bacon into his mouth.   
"Been better. Listen, I don't know what I said, but-"   
"No, Dean. We're not- you can't just do that. You can't just bury shit and pretend it never happened. I had no idea you were even friends with Lee Webb."   
Friends. He snorts. Right, friends who suck each other's dicks in the backseat of his car.   
"Dean, I don't know how to say this. Have you ever... considered that you might be- y'know?" Sam makes a weird gesture with his hand.   
"What?"   
"Y'know. Into... men?"   
Dean blinks.  
"Yeah, Sam." He sips his coffee smugly, "I'm bi, or whatever. 'Least that's what Charlie said."  
Sam proceeds to choke on his bacon.   
"You- and you're cool with it? You're not gonna try and tell me it's just when you're, like, splitting up triplets or whatever?"   
"Nope. Lee and I were together. Cas had a profound bond with me, or some shit. And Benny and I had- I don't know. Something."  
"Benny?" Sam splutters, "So you've been- you mean, you've known this whole time and never told me?" He looks hurt.   
"It wasn't like I was lying to you, I'm still me. Jesus, Sam. You know everything else about me, can I not just keep anything to myself for once?" He pauses. "Look, you're basically the first person I've ever admitted that to, okay? Don't make it fucking weird."   
"No!" He says quickly, "No, I mean- I'm glad you're happy enough to tell me. Thank you?"   
"Dude. You're being weird." 

He's not quite so quick to explain everything Cas said before he died, but Sam drags it out of him eventually. He gives him one of those sad, puppy-eyed looks that he seems to be so full of lately, but to his credit doesn't push it any further. Dean just needs to get used to Cas being gone. He's done this before, and he can do it again. He lost Lisa, and he survived, loved again or whatever. It doesn't feel the same this time, though. At least he knew Lisa would be able to move on without him and have a better life. Cas is just stuck in the depths of the Empty, cold and lifeless. Dean doesn't think he could move on if he tried. There could never be any other being like Cas. He thinks about him every day. At Christmas, they pull out the decorations that Mrs Butters had left put away neatly for them (with a strongly worded note about deserving to enjoy the holidays) and dress the bunker up with them. They do a pretty shitty job of it- their tree is especially dodgy looking as Dean can only reach the lower half, and Sam is too particular about what he wants going on the upper half. After shoving a fuck-ton of tinsel on, the last thing Dean pulls out of the box is a little angel doll with charcoal wings and a little tan coat. Mrs Butters had made it for Jack, who had insisted they have 'a proper angel' on the top of the tree. Sam winces as he notices Dean's found it, but Dean wordlessly hands it to him. The man balances it carefully on the top of the tree and smiles softly at it. The other hunters that just use the bunker as a workspace definitely think their tree is a little odd, but neither Sam nor Dean care. For them, it's perfect.   
Spring comes, and brings beautiful pink blooms to the trees in town. Cas always loved blossoms, and the new life and hope they'd bring. If he were there he'd probably tell Dean in detail all about pollen and bees and the wonder of the season. But he's not, and Dean is alone with his thoughts when he occasionally ventures out. He's a lot happier than he was though, and it always surprises him. The aftermath of his accident had been terrifying at first, and despite the fact he still drinks far more than he should do and often wakes up with red-rimmed eyes and Cas' name on his lips, he's doing good. He's almost somewhat grateful shit happened the way it did, since he probably wouldn't have let himself get this kind of peace had he stayed hunting. Sam had dropped the reins slightly on it himself, in order to focus on his relationship with Eileen, but since the new year began the two of them had stepped up and started to make something of the bunker. Rebuilding the Men of Letters, but in a better way. The bunker isn't the batcave of a stuffy gentlemen's club anymore, but the stronghold of a tightly connected community of hunters. They stick to some of the old methods such as logging their findings and gathering information and artefacts, but it's a much more open and inclusive space. Rowena, despite being Queen of Hell, seems to enjoy hanging around and doing her witchy shit there, beds are filled with tired hunters resting between long drives, the med-wing is kept open and utilised more often than anyone would like, and the libraries are often visited by hunters seeking knowledge and help. It fills Dean with pride to see his brother take on such leadership, and to do it with such confidence and strength. From a boy who desperately ran away from the life, he's become an architect for change and a pillar of their community. 

-

Dean had imagined hearing Cas' voice so many times in the past few months, but to finally hear that gravelly voice ring out in the quiet of his room takes him by complete surprise. There's always been half an expectation in the back of his mind, that just maybe he'd turn up again- the dude's been resurrected so many times now, but he'd truly accepted there was no coming back from this one. He especially didn't expect him just to rock up out of nowhere while he's in the middle of half-heartedly folding his Scooby Doo boxers . The angel, however stands awkwardly across the room with not a speck of black goo in sight.   
"Hello, Dean."  
"Cas?" Dean says in disbelief, instantly dropping the garment, "That really you?"   
"Yes. It really is me." He pushes aside the mountain of laundry and sits on the bed.   
"Where the hell have you been, man? How are you even, y'know- alive?"   
"Jack resurrected me after he absorbed Chuck's powers. I believe it was the first thing he did, in fact."   
Dean feels like he's been punched.   
"Cas- that was fucking- that was months ago?"   
Anger starts to bubble up in his chest and his hands instinctively tighten into fists, but the angel just nods solemnly.   
"He asked me to help him rebuild Heaven."  
"You- I nearly fucking died, and you were off playing HGTV in the clouds?" Dean says sharply, "You didn't think it would be a good idea to say hi? Maybe stop me from bleeding out on a damn nail?"   
"I tried. In the barn, I tried to come down and help you. I thought you might have seen me, but I-"   
"You were really there?" Dean whispers. Cas grimaces and cautiously reaches a hand across to Dean's.  
"I was. I tried to land, but my grace- it was so depleted from assisting Jack, I didn't have enough strength to stay. I had to return to Heaven in order for it to recharge enough to actually come down to Earth."  
"So that's what you've been doing for months? Recharging?" Cas sighs, frustrated.  
"Time in Heaven is different. It's been months for you, but for me it's been more like days. Dean, I am so sorry-"  
He shakes his head.   
"So why didn't you ask Jack to give you a ride? Drop you down here? I needed you, man!" Dean snarls, snatching his hand away.  
"I couldn't, Dean!" He returns, equally as angry.  
"Why the hell not?"   
"Because I was scared!" Cas exclaims.  
"Scared?"   
"Dean, I finally told you how I feel about you after over a decade of loving you. I had no idea what the consequences of that would mean- I hadn't even imagined what you'd even say, because I knew I would be dead after. But to come back, and face that? I was so afraid. I'm still afraid."   
There's silence for a moment as they stare at each other.   
"Cas, I love you." Dean eventually says, "That's not changed. That's not going to change. And I'm scared, too. I'm freakin' terrified of how this is going to go, but I don't care. Every single damn day you've been gone I've prayed to you. I don't know what 'us' looks like, but I want it. I want you."   
Cas leans in, and he holds his breath because finally, they're finally going to kiss, but Cas merely taps Dean's forehead with two fingers.   
"Your injuries are now healed." He says softly. Dean squeezes his toes- and fuck. He can. For the first time in months, he's able to stand on his own two feet.   
"Cas." He breathes, and lunges forward, smashing their lips together. Objectively it's a bad kiss, too much teeth and enthusiasm, but Dean couldn't care less. It's finally unravelling all of the desires he'd bound away, and the summit of years and years of tension. They eventually have to part for breath and Dean throws his arms around his angel and just laughs. He's back. Cas is really, truly back. 

Sam drops a boiling hot mug of coffee when the pair of them walk (walk!) into the kitchen, hand in hand. Eileen jumps deftly out of the way and smiles.  
"You-" Sam gasps, before yanking the two of them into a crushing embrace.   
"And you're- y'know?" He says, when he finally lets them breathe again. Dean smirks and squeezes Cas' hand.   
"Yeah."   
"You owe me fifty bucks." Eileen says to Sam with a laugh, after she gets her own hug in. 

-

Cas fits in nicely with their little life they've grown. Maybe it isn't exactly how Dean had imagined- he still isn't overly comfortable being affectionate in front of people, but in the privacy of his room they worship each other's bodies, mapping every inch of skin with kisses and soft touches. It's all so incredible, getting to have Cas. Everyday Dean marvels that this is something he gets to have. Falling asleep with his angel by his side, for once able to be entirely confident that he will be there when he wakes is blissful. Obviously there are occasions when he's not there, but usually that's because he doesn't actually sleep, just pretends to for Dean's benefit. One time Dean wakes up in the night alone, and wanders sleepily through the bunker to find Cas. He ends up finding him in the library with Eileen, who's wearing one of Sam's shirts, giggling and furiously signing together about fuck knows what. He gives them a slightly confused look.  
"Girl talk." Eileen explains simply, exchanging a mischievous grin with Cas before bursting into laughter again. 

-

He isn't sure who first suggested moving out. He thinks it might have been Sam who mentioned it first, or maybe Cas. Either way, it's a decent idea. The bunker has always been a home to Dean- his first real home- but things have changed, it's growing beyond that and it's a workplace now, more than anything. Sure he'll miss the power-showers and dungeon, but the idea of settling down with Cas in a place entirely their own (where unsuspecting hunters can't walk in on them mid-coitus) is incredibly attractive. After scouring the internet, Dean finds an old farmhouse for sale only an hour out of Lebanon. He's driven past it many a time, but never exactly noticed it. It's old and beat up, and needs a lot of work doing to make it a home, but it's perfect. They buy it. The four of them- Dean, Cas, Sam and Eileen, drive out to it as soon as they can. Sam turns his nose up at the grunginess of it all, but Dean's eyes are on Cas, who just stares at their home in wonderment. He doesn't wear Jimmy's clothes anymore, usually opting to steal Dean's wardrobe, but today he has his old trenchcoat on. It looks a bit funny, but it makes Dean smile at the sight of it layered over one of his own well worn Led Zeppelin shirts.   
"Come on, guys!" Sam says, propping his phone up on some old bit of fence that looks far too precarious to hold such an expensive piece of technology, "Let's take a photo."   
They gather around in front of the house, Baby gleaming in the afternoon sun beside them. Dean slips an arm around Cas' waist and pulls him in close, and Sam throws an arm over Eileen's shoulders after rushing to set the timer. The first one taken is kind of terrible- Cas isn't even in frame, Dean's eyes are shut, the sun hits Sam's hair in a weird way that makes it look silver, and Eileen's all blurry. The second is better, all broad smiles and twinkling eyes, with even Miracle posing for the camera. Dean hangs it proudly over the mantelpiece as soon as he can. 

Cas thoroughly enjoys fixing the house up. He reads his DIY book religiously at night in bed like it's some gripping novel, and during the day he sets to work methodically mending the house and it's flaws until it's warm and comfortable and has perfectly straight floors and no leaks in the roof or any issue at all, really. Dean's happy to help him- they pick out paint and furnishings and everything together, and he puts his year of construction experience to good use, but he mostly just enjoys existing in the place. Drinking coffee on the veranda, cooking in their little kitchen and cuddling up in front of the fire. It's better than anything he ever thought he'd get, and he still can't believe it's real. He expects to wake up any day soon in the backseat of Baby, cold and hungry with bruised ribs and John yelling at him, or even just in hell, but it never happens.

-

Sex with Cas is amazing. It's like nothing he's ever experienced before. Where before every time he'd slept with men, he'd felt nothing but guilt, dirtiness and shame, with Cas he feels pure. Holy. His love for the angel runs so deep, that being with him feels a natural as anything. He's not thinking about it being wrong or sinful anymore, but in fact how right it is- to shed his worries and just be one with the man he loves. Cas just seems to understand him in a way that nobody else ever has. Maybe he had in fact heard all of those prayers when he was younger, maybe it was rebuilding his body after Hell, or perhaps they just seem to understand each other better than anyone else. Cas doesn't make Dean feel ashamed for anything he likes. The angel has no care for what is 'right' for men, or of gender stereotypes at all really. To him, Dean is just Dean no matter what he might wear or do or take an interest in, and it's so incredibly refreshing. When they're alone together in their little home, he doesn't feel like he needs to hide at all. 

-

Claire comes down to visit them often. She was thrilled when she finally got to see Cas alive and well and Dean up on his feet, and she possibly even sheds a tear, although they all promise to forget it ever happened. ("Don't get too misty-eyed now," Dean had joked. Claire dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and smirked. "I should have rolled you off a cliff when I had the chance, old man.")   
She reluctantly helps Dean cook dinner one evening after stopping by, bruised and battered from a wendigo hunt. Dean had taken one look at her and instructed her to stay the night before driving off again.   
"I just can't believe you guys are so domestic now. It's crazy, you used to be like, serial killers." Claire says unceremoniously, dipping a piece of bread into her bowl of chili.   
Dean rolls his eyes.   
"Yeah, well. When you manage to live to old age, you have to appreciate it."   
She snorts.   
"I don't think you can say that, you've died about a million times."   
"Alright, alright. Whatever. Why, you ever think of settling down? Finding someone?"   
Claire shrugs and puts her fork down nervously.   
"I don't know. I guess I kind of already have." Dean's brows shoot up.  
"Who?" Cas interjects, scrutinising her.   
"Um, well. Kaia and I are sort of- we're friends. Like you guys are, if you know what I mean."   
"Claire," Cas says seriously, "I think you are mistaken. Dean and I are not friends. We are in a serious homosexual relationship."   
Dean throws his head back in laughter and slaps Cas' shoulder.   
"Dude, that's what she's trying to say."   
"Oh my god, I was trying to be subtle!" She exclaims.   
"That's great, Claire." Dean says and stands up, gesturing for her to come forward. He wraps her in a deep hug.   
"Seriously, I'm happy for you. She better treat you right."   
"She really does." Claire agrees softly. 

He has a lot on his mind as he goes to bed that night, and Cas can tell.   
"What're you thinking about?" The angel says quietly, stroking a hand over Dean's hair as they lay cuddled together under the sheets. Dean sighs.  
"I don't know. I'm just- glad. For Claire. That she has Kaia, and she's able to be herself. And then, I guess how different things might have been for me, if I'd been able to be as open as she is about everything."   
"About same-sex attraction?"  
"Yeah." It's strange. Dean is able to happily be in a relationship with Cas, able to have sex with him constantly, and hold hands in public, but labelling things still brings waves of anxiety rolling over him. It's some sort of fragmented leftover from long-gone times where his father would utter filthy words and drunkenly smash bottles in Dean's vicinity, that he just can't shake. Cas doesn't mind, though. He gets it. He built his lover's body back from nothing after he rescued Dean's soul from hell. He's seen those memories, and he does what he can to help alleviate the pain.   
"It's not your fault, that you struggled. Times are very different now. Claire is lucky enough to feel happy to express her sexuality because she's had positive influence in her life."   
"What are you saying?" Dean stares up at Cas, who gives Dean a kind smile.   
"I suppose I'm saying that your bravery to stand up and show the world who you are probably helped give Claire the confidence to do it herself. Your father unfortunately influenced you with the power of hatred. Don't you think positivity and love can do the same?"   
Dean presses a kiss to Cas' cheek.  
"I think you probably deserve more credit than me."  
Cas is comfortable with himself in a way Dean probably never will be. The concepts of human sexuality and identity simply do not apply to him, but he is fascinated by them nonetheless. He asks alt-Charlie to take him to Pride with her, when she mentions she's going with Stevie. Dean is terrified Cas will make him come too, but fortunately he is completely fine with Dean keeping a marked distance from any rainbows. He does however, bring Dean back a tiny flag striped with pink, blue and purple. Dean raises a brow as he's handed it.  
"Charlie says that's the bisexual flag." He explains in a slightly uncertain voice. Dean hesitates, but eventually props it up beside the framed photo of their little family on the mantlepiece. He smiles at it fondly and reaches for Cas' hand. 

-

Sam and Eileen are expecting a baby. It's one of the first warm evenings of the year when the couple comes over, under the guise of 'dropping by for a few beers'. They do do that pretty regularly however, and Dean's pretty tired and kind of just wants to flop on the couch and watch Cas fail at whatever craft project he's attempting this week until he falls asleep, but Sam is weirdly insistent on coming over. The couple turns up with a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne in addition to the beer.  
"Dude," Dean comments once they're all comfortable on the back porch, "We celebrating something?"   
Sam and Eileen share an excited look.   
"Well..." Sam starts, grinning from ear to ear.  
"I'm pregnant!" Eileen announces happily, squeezing Sam's hand tightly.   
"Congratulations!" Cas laughs, but Dean can't find the right words. He's so fucking happy for his baby brother, that words can't cover just how pleased he is. He ends up just pulling Sam into a bone-crushing hug. When they pull away, both of them are slightly teary-eyed. This is what Sam deserves- a beautiful girlfriend, a kid, a home. Safety. Peace. Dean claps him on the shoulder proudly, and Sam just knows exactly what he means, responding wordlessly with a nod, a smile, and wipes his eyes. 

"This mean you're planning on putting a ring on it, then?" Dean says later on, when they duck in the kitchen for a moment alone together while Cas and Eileen discuss nursery colours. Sam shrugs.  
"I don't know, probably not. We've talked about it getting married, but neither of us are really that bothered. It's just a piece of paper."   
"You dog. Having a kid out of wedlock." Dean teases lightly, popping the lid off another beer.   
"Dude, since when have you been big on marriage?" Sam snorts, "You planning on asking Cas, or something?"   
He frowns. He'd never actually even considered that being a possibility. For starters, Dean is legally dead and Cas has no documentation aside from Jimmy's, which seems kind of fucked up to use.  
"Oh my god," Sam splutters, "You are?"   
"No!" Dean says hastily, "No- I mean. I dunno, I hadn't thought about it before."   
Weirdly, the idea doesn't bother him at all. He marvels at that in itself- even just a few years ago the possibility of finding marrying Cas a realistic option would have made his stomach turn and his hands sweaty, but now it just seems- normal. He loves Cas, and he plans to wake up next to him every day for the rest of his life. It almost seems nice to have a proper representation of that. He glances down at his hand and envisions a gold band wrapped around his ring finger, and that familiar warmth that fantasising about Cas brings, floods through him and fills him with excitement.   
He sits on the idea for a little while. Every time he thinks about it for too long, those ridiculous thoughts about what people would think creep their way into his mind. Whether he'd be a good husband, whether he even deserves to be one. But then one day, he's walking through town on a milk run and finds himself staring in the window of a jeweller's at the rows and rows of gleaming rings and the decision is firm in his mind. He drives straight home, almost buzzing with the thrill of it, hands happily tapping on Baby's wheel to the radio. Dean makes a beeline for Cas once he's home, who is flipping through some books he'd misappropriated from the bunker (much to Sam's chagrin) and placing passive aggressive sticky note corrections where he deems them necessary. He feels a rush of intense love at the sight.  
"Do you want to get married?" He says in a hurry. Cas squints, and puts down the sticky notes.   
"What do you mean? Are you asking me in theory or-" He blinks, "Oh! You're proposing?"   
He's remarkably calm, compared to Dean.  
"Uh- yeah? I guess."  
"Well. Yes, I think I'd like that."   
Dean clutches Cas's face between his hands and kisses him hard, and with a level of heat that's perhaps out of place at 10am on a Thursday. They break apart to laugh incredulously, and entwine their hands. 

They have the ceremony on one of the last truly hot, sticky days of summer. It's a Thursday, of course, and Sam is 'officiating' with the help of YouTube. They can't actually have a legal wedding, but it doesn't particularly matter, so long as they get to whisper their vows and slide on matching rings. Eileen is looking more and more heavily pregnant, and Sam can't keep his hands off her. Charlie joins them, too. It felt slightly odd to ask her, given that this version of Charlie hasn't actually known the Winchesters all that long, but she seems to understand how desperately he needs to see her on that day. ("Dude, when life hands you an invitation to your alternate universe best friend's illegal, gay, interspecies wedding you simply do not decline." She had told him, with kind eyes and a pat on the arm.) Dean wears his best fed suit, which is horrifically uncomfortable in the heat, and Cas buys a new one, since he's not keen on the idea of getting married wearing Jimmy's clothes. He looks like a damn wet dream with his bright blue eyes and that dumb backwards tie, and Dean just wants to jump him the second he sees him.   
They do everything in the backyard. Cas has spent the summer lovingly tending to it, and it's flourishing with stunning blooms and bees humming around the flowering bushes. Dean had done some wedding prep himself by trying to teach Miracle to be their ring bearer, which is technically successful in that the rings manage to make it onto their respective fingers intact, but Sam does have to spend several minutes trying to wrestle the half-chewed box out of the pup's mouth.   
"I, um- Dean, take thee, Cas-"  
Sam makes a face.  
"What?" Dean glares.  
"You're meant to say your full names." He corrects sheepishly. Dean rolls his eyes and starts over.  
"I, Dean Winchester, take thee, Castiel, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith." He clears his throat before continuing, "Cas, ever since you pulled me outta' Hell, you've changed my life. I know- I know we've been through some shit together, and I've been a dick to you a lot over the years, but I love you. And, um. I guess I just wanna say I'm glad I get to have all this with you. You an' I both know I never thought that'd be on the cards for me." He finishes, waving a hand at their surroundings lamely. Cas' eyes are wet with tears.   
"Dean." He says softly, "I love you too. Everything I told you the night that I summoned the Empty is true, and always will be. You are the kindest, most loving man I have ever known in all of the centuries I have watched this Earth. And I am so unbelievably happy that somehow after everything, you love me too. And I'd go through all of it, all of the struggles and wars and heartbreak again, ten times over, just to get to this moment. I am so proud of you. I am proud of us." He pauses to take a deep breath.  
"I, Castiel, take thee, Dean Winchester, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith. Although death will not actually do us part, and Jack is our-"  
Dean cuts him off with a kiss.   
"Dude, I'm meant to tell you when to kiss!" Sam complains, "Alright, fine! By the power vested in me by- uh, no one- I now declare you husbands." 

They have everyone over for a party afterwards. Dean had wanted to keep the actual ceremony private, being still slightly self-conscious, which is dumb considering the band now around his finger is a neon sign that he is married to a man, but fortunately Cas wasn't keen on having everyone watch them either. In the afternoon, everyone starts to arrive. Garth and Bess bring their kids, who seem to constantly multiply every time they see them. Jody, Donna and the girls show up in pretty summer dresses and not a muddy boot or gun in sight (in sight being the key term. Claire definitely has an arsenal under the lacy number she's wearing.) Rowena makes a brief appearance to steal a bite of wedding-pie and offer the happy couple Hell's blessings. Even Jack visits for the first time since he's taken on his new role. He appears out of nowhere, and Dean nearly chokes when he hears the kid's familiar greeting of 'hello!' from behind him. Cas wraps him in a hug and insists he drops by more. He gifts them a tree at the end of the yard, which is apparently magical and grows with love or some shit. Cas thinks it's sweet, Dean thinks a freakin' tree is a boring gift, especially from literal God.   
When it gets dark, the trees start to twinkle with lights strung through the branches, and they take their first dance. After much deliberation, Dean had settled on 'Till It Shines' since as Sam had once put it aptly- 'everything is a Bob Seger song to him'. It's super awkward at first, because neither of them are particularly gifted in the dancing department, but Dean channels that one fever dream he'd had when Garth knocked him out with a fuck ton of nitrous, and just fucking goes for it. He doesn't even care too much about embarrassing himself, because this is his freakin' wedding night, and he's got Cas' arms around him. Nothing else matters. After the song is over, everyone else joins in. Sam and Eileen sway gently to one side, Claire forces Cas to dance wildly with her and they spin around in fits of laughter. Jody dances with Dean for a bit, although it turns mostly into a teary hug as they celebrate how far they've all come. As the night draws to a close, Sam reveals some fireworks and they all stand under the stars, watching the explosions of light rain down over them. The glittering shower of light reminds him oddly of back when John had shattered glasses over Dean's head so many years ago, and how the sparkles had rained down over him then, laced with blood and tears. He swallows thickly at the memory, but he's surprised to find he doesn't feel guilty, or ashamed at all. He just feels love- overwhelming and wholehearted love. Cas reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly, melting any lingering anxiety away and soothing his soul in just one small gesture. Dean kisses him sweetly under the night sky and lets himself truly fall deeper in love than he's ever been in his life. All in all, it's a fucking beautiful evening. 

-

After hours of agonizing waiting- Dean pacing back and forth and Cas calmly discussing the miracle of childbirth with anyone that will listen, Sam eventually steps out in his scrubs looking like freakin' Moose MD (which is a hideous throwback to Gabriel's dumbass Dr Sexy recreation, that he'd rather not remember) and pushes his hair back with a sweaty hand.   
"It's a girl," He chokes out, happy tears spilling down his flushed cheeks, "A perfect little girl. We're gonna call her Lily, after Eileen's mom Lillian."   
Dean strides over and yanks Sammy into the strongest hug he can possibly give.   
"I am so fucking proud of you." He whispers into his little brother's ear. Sam's breath hitches.  
"I'm proud of us." He responds thickly, before pulling away and roughly wiping his eyes.  
"You can't swear around the baby, though."   
They finally get to see Eileen and the tiny bundle clutched in her arms after promising to keep their mouths clean. Sam hardly leaves her side, always has a hand on her or the baby as if he's expecting them to vanish into thin air any second, but does let Dean hold his niece.   
"Hey Lils," He says softly, staring down at the sticky pink infant, whose face is scrunched up in a cute, sleepy way. She reflexively grabs onto his finger with her tiny hand. "You look just like your Daddy did when he was all tiny like this." She sniffs slightly as if in agreement. "Uh huh. You're freakin' adorable, huh? You're gonna kick ass, I can tell already."  
"She is truly a beautiful child." Cas adds seriously, leaning in close to his husband. 

Sam and Eileen take Lily to the bunker with them most days, and take turns with who gets to watch her. She's the most curious kid ever though, so this arrangement doesn't really work out all that well once she starts crawling around at lightning speed. It takes three incidents to get her kicked from the bunker until she's possibly eighteen. The first near death incident happens on Sam's watch, where she somehow managed to grab Ruby's knife and start gnawing on the handle. Sam, to his credit, noticed almost instantly and promptly freaked out. Despite Eileen's fury at his parental incompetence, it's her that's on Lily-duty when the next thing happens. The baby is merrily giggling away and chewing her own toes while her mom takes inventory of the spell room, but somehow in the blink of an eye pushes over a small glass spelljar like a smug cat. Thankfully the spell had been just silly pranking sort of magic, and turned her piglet teething ring into a real pig. Which was a downright hysterical bit of entertainment for everyone else, but was strike two for Lily. 

They call it Babe, and bring it up to the farmhouse to live with Dean and Cas. Cas is thrilled at the tiny snorting creature and immediately starts reading up on proper pig care. He is heartbroken when they wake up the next morning and Babe is once again a plastic toy. Dean is so upset on behalf of Cas that he goes to the pet store the same day and brings him home a tiny little guinea pig.  
"I know it's not actually a pig, but it's close enough?" He says, revealing the ball of fluff to his husband, who's face lights up, "What're you gonna call it?"   
Cas takes the guinea pig and stares it dead in the eyes.   
"Bartholemew." He declares solemnly.  
"Cool, so Bart then."   
"No," Cas glares, "He doesn't like nicknames." Dean rolls his eyes.  
"He's a guinea pig, Cas. He doesn't have a preference on nicknames. C'mon Bart, back in the cage. You're not pissing on the couch." He grabs Bartholemew, who instantly sinks his teeth into Dean's hand, prompting blood to dribble onto the precious upholstery instead. "Ow! What the fuck?"   
Cas pets the guinea pig's head smugly.   
"I told you, he doesn't like being called Bart."   
(Bartholemew eventually accepts Dean, after weeks of slipping him carrots. Whenever Cas is out, they cuddle together on the couch with Miracle, and watch Jeopardy.) 

The final blow is barfing on the Book of The Damned. Rowena screams bloody murder and threatens to turn the infant into a frog. Sam is all too sure the witch will genuinely make good on that, and so he turns up early the next morning at Dean's doorstep with a noisy baby carrier and one of their old duffel bags that once held guns, now stuffed with diapers and bottles.   
"You better have a good reason for waking me up, dude." Dean says blearily, wrapping his Dead Guy robe tightly around him and squinting at his brother.   
"Look, can you just take the baby for a couple hours? I'm so busy and Eileen is exhausted, and Rowena is planning on committing some kind of-"   
Dean takes one look at Sam's greasy hair, dark eyebags and wailing child and wordlessly opens his arms. Sam dumps the kid in them and makes himself scarce before he can change his mind.  
"You should put her milk in the fridge before it-" he starts to call from halfway back into his car.   
"Yeah, yeah." Dean waves him away and settles Lily on his hip, before begrudgingly throwing the bottles in the fridge and sitting down on the couch. Lily continues to grizzle but manages to settle a bit as he cuddles her. Cas slowly pads downstairs.   
"We've got babysitting duty today, apparently." Dean greets him cheerfully, eyeing the man's fluffy morning sex-hair appreciatively. Cas nods silently and makes his way to the coffee pot. Despite not actually sleeping, just pretending to for Dean's sake, Cas is weirdly grumpy in the mornings until he's downed a couple mugs of caffeine. He makes a cup for Dean as well, and they hang out on the couch for a bit, watching the baby snooze and just generally waking up. It's nice. Peaceful. Every moment like this is so perfect, and Dean can hardly believe he gets to have this.   
"Do you- are you upset at all, that we can't have children? That I can't give you a baby?" Cas says quietly, eyes fixed on the rise and fall of Lily's sleeping chest.   
"No, Cas. Of course not," Dean says quickly, "I mean, even if you could- if you were, y'know. Able to do that? I wouldn't want to. I've kind of already done the whole parenting thing."   
"With Ben?" He clarifies, doing that cute questioning head tilt.  
"No. With Sam," Dean sighs, and strokes Lily's little fingers. She really does look like Sam when she's sleeping. "All of this, everything he's got now- the sleepless nights, the diapers, making them eat their vegetables and do their homework- I did all that with Sam. Dad did his best, but he was never actually a parent to Sam. I was the one who had to feed him and potty train him and teach him how to walk. I'm not mad about it or anything, I love him and he grew up real good. But I've not got any desire to do it all again. Kids are exhausting, man. Plus, we have Miracle and he's basically our baby. Maybe back with Lisa I would have wanted something, but right now I'm just happy to be a really awesome uncle." Dean finishes softly. Cas smiles and holds his hand.   
"I'm glad you're happy."   
"I am, Cas. Really."

To her parent's utter joy, Lily decides she is not interested in hunting pretty early on. She likes hearing some of the stories about her Dad and some of the weird and wonderful shit they got up to (she is amazed and thoroughly jealous of their Scooby Doo adventure) but her heart is entirely set on becoming a veterinarian. She is so sensitive and empathetic towards animals. Miracle is her best friend from a young age, and it downright melted Dean's heart when he walked in on a four year old Lily pretending to bandage Miracle's paw up. She had bopped the dog lightly on the head with a two finger touch, imitating Cas, and declared him 'all better now'. 

Rose is a bit of a whoops-baby, but a more than welcome addition to the Winchester clan nonetheless. Where Lily is gentle, thoughtful and measured, Rosie is loud, excited and hard to tame. She is the spitting image of her mother, all long dark hair and chocolate-brown eyes, and has the spitfire attitude of Mary Winchester. The two sisters are inseparable from the beginning, but fortunately never quite as closely tied as Sam and Dean were. Dean couldn't possibly be more proud of his brother and the incredible, kind, and courageous women he and Eileen managed to raise. 

Dean dies on a Thursday. He'd been fading for a while, slowly losing track of things and himself. Forgetting stuff he shouldn't have, and getting confused. Cas had noticed as soon as it had started, as despite letting his vessel age and gray in accordance with his husband his mind had stayed as sharp as ever. He simply looked after Dean with as much love and kindness as ever, until the time came when he was ready- finally ready to lay his head to rest. They'd simply laid down on their bed together, facing inwards like a set of parentheses, hands clasped tightly and eyes locked.   
"You'll be there?" Dean confirms once again, gripping onto his angel tightly. Cas smiles and kisses his cheek.  
"I'll be waiting for you, my love." He soothes, and lets his grace trickle through their embrace, letting it engulf Dean's soul. The room fills with a warm, comforting angelic light for a moment, and then fades away, leaving the two lovers in eternal slumber. 

True to his word, Cas is there when Dean awakens in Heaven. The angel hadn't died with his husband, but merely left his vessel and come to reside in in Heaven with him as he belongs. Jack is there too. Dean, in a body decades younger than he remembers, immediately grabs the kid and pulls him into a hug.   
"It's been too damn long!" He says, when he finally lets him go and takes Cas' hand instead. Jack grins.   
"You deserved to have a nice long life, Dean." The kid says. He still looks like the three year old they left in charge all those years ago.   
"Time moves differently in Heaven," Cas reminds him, squeezing his hand gently.  
"So-"  
"Sam'll be along soon. When it's time."   
Dean kisses Cas softly.  
"What's good up here, then?" He says cheerfully. 

Heaven isn't all that different from Earth, now. There's no more reliving your golden oldies, but just whatever the hell you want, whenever you want, with who you want- and it's perfect. It speaks to just how happy Dean was with Cas that they pretty much resume the life they had left on Earth. Their farmhouse, complete with Miracle (and Dean sheds a tear when he gets to cuddle that mutt again, because it's been so long) Bartholemew, and their beautiful backyard. They spend a lot of time at home, reigniting their sex life that old age had unfortunately tapered off, but an eternity is spent reuniting with all of their loved ones. Dean fishes with Jack, drives for hours laughing and singing along to the radio with Sammy, watches every chick flick under the sun with Jody and Donna, goes hunting for deer with Bobby, battles for the Kingdom of Moondoor with his Charlie, samples every single pie flavour he can think of with his mom, goes for long walks through stunning scenery with Miracle, catches up with Claire and Alex, throws a frisbee around the park with his nieces how they used to when they were tots, and then comes home and cuddles up with Cas. Heaven feels like the warmth and comfort of basking in sunlight, but constantly. Dean feels bathed in love.

It takes him a long time to decide to see John. Time in Heaven being relative, so for him it might not be all that noticeable, but Dean takes his time. Sam sees their parents regularly, he couldn't wait to reunite with them, but Dean's always been slower and more thoughtful. He's imagined the conversation they'd have a million times over, and it's only when he's ready that he chooses to meet John at a park. It's the park he and Cas had sat in once, many, many years ago after saving it. John doesn't know that.   
Dean sits on a bench and stares out at the sun that's setting slowly, leaving gold lines all over the play equipment.  
"Hello, Son." John's gravelly voice appears from behind him, and the man sits down next to his son. John looks young. Younger than Dean remembers him as. That's always going to be one of the stranger things about Heaven- the way people are at whatever age they desire. It's not exactly a conscious thing, but people seem to appear the age they were happiest at. Dean himself looks just the same as he did the day of his wedding. John's probably about the age when the fire happened.   
"Hi." Dean greets him softly, slightly unsure of what to do with himself.   
"Where are we?" John remarks, crossing his arms and surveying their surroundings.   
"Just a park I remembered."   
They pause.  
"It's taken you a while to say hi, hasn't it? Sam's been over for dinner about ten times already." There's an accusatory tone already setting in.  
"Yeah, well. Wasn't exactly sure you'd want to see me."   
"Sam says you married. Some angel called Castiel." He says the name like it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth.  
"Cas," Dean corrects, "Yeah."   
"He and that wife of his gave Mary and I a big speech about how great the two of you are."   
Dean smiles slightly. Of course Sam did.   
"Said you've been with men and women, and that this Cas is who you love most of all." John continues, frowning. "I don't get it. You could have found yourself a wife, but you chose to be a fag."   
"I didn't choose a damn thing," Dean snaps, feeling agitated now, "You don't choose who you fall in love with. I like women and I like men, and it just so happened that Cas ended up in a male vessel. And I don't care, because he is the best thing that's ever happened to me."   
"Look, Dean. I don't like it, I don't think it's right, but we're in fuckin' Heaven. I'm willing to look past whatever this is, because I want my family together for once." John says impatiently.   
And Dean just laughs. He doesn't know why, but he just smiles and shakes his head.  
"You know what? No."  
"No?" John repeats in disbelief.  
"No. Fuck you, and fuck 'looking past it'. I can't be part of your family unless you can fully accept who I am. I have a family. I have Cas, and Sam and Bobby, and Jody and Donna, and Claire and Kaia, and Charlie, and Garth and Bess and so many more people that love me for who I am, and don't have conditions on their acceptance. I'm not going to chase after your validation like a child any more."   
John says nothing, but the fury in his face shows it all. But for once Dean could not give less of a fuck, and it feels awesome. 

Dean is genuinely fine to leave his dad and his shitty attitude to rest, truly meaning what he said, but given that they do have forever, reconciliation happens eventually. Mostly it's for Sam and Mary's sake, but John and Dean tentatively begin to exist in each other's worlds again. Dean doesn't care to hide his love for Cas, and John watches his tongue. Sure, they're not going to throw back beers together and reminisce about the 'good times' any time, but it feels undeniably satisfying to finally have everything fall into place.   
Dean has peace. Finally, there's no more looming apocalypses to stop, no death or hatred, only pure love and family by his side. He's happy with who he is and what he's become. It's perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope yall are happy with dean's final death. It's what delayed my posting of this, because i really couldn't figure out a fitting way for him to go. suicide? not anymore. there's no big cause for self sacrifice, he wasn't hunting anymore, cas would be able to heal him of any illnesses, and he's sure as fuck not going out in a freak accident. I figured him choosing to accept his time had come and having cas peacefully take him to heaven was the best I could come up with, sorry. Also i had to somewhat tackle that piece of shit John being in Heaven. Make no mistake, he has not been redeemed, but I doubt Dean would ignore him forever. 
> 
> There's definitely stuff I've missed that I wanted to include that I might sneakily add in, but this fic is mostly complete now, so thanks for reading! I always love a good comment, and you can find me on tumblr @ chocolateorangecat :) I'm working on a fic similar to this about Dean's mutism as a child so keep your peepers peeled for that sometime soon

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is ChocolateOrangeCat pls feel free to say hi! 
> 
> I always love comments btw ;)


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